I really miss the good times. Twenty was so good, fuck damn it! Cigarettes where cheaper, the summer wasn’t over. The city, the clubs, the sand, the tables we sat at and those that we danced on. The dots I used to wear, my hair you used to love. I had two boyfriends, drank beer outside and met someone different almost every day. We didn’t call you Bird back then, but I loved you. We used to have more friends and we’d never get bored. My last year before coffee, love and mathematics. Before them, great heartsnatchers. It was clear, it was fun and we could breathe. And we had time.