Provo in the Summer

Provo in the summer is like pinata-filled culture crashes, slamming into the desert sky and feeding you frybread.

During the fall and winter, I have a weird obsession/hatred with/of Provo. It's beautiful and cold and intriguing and lovely and it's weird and people suck, BYU is a tumor on the city, the mountains hold me as I sleep, I love it and I hate it and whatever whatever amen.

But during the summer. This place rolls its sleeves up and gets to work on livin. Hispanic clubs, mercados, navajo tacos, hoop dancing, heat, sweat, history, culture, community, free water, people sitting on patios and street curbs spitting in the air and wondering where they are, what they want to do, why they don't care that they aren't moving. You wake up in the morning and the pale blue sky makes you young again.

This place opens like a lotus flower. I had no clue what this place was until I actually lived in it, truly lived in it, didn't just go to school. This place is beautiful and lovely.

Rave over.