With both his hands behind his head, legs crossed and his back a little arched, a man leans on his chair. Unlike his hands which take hold of a tall and cold drink whose glass is dripping with dew, except for the drink, he looks somewhat rosy. The sun shines through the leaves and his face is in the shade as he swallows the liquid that he enjoys while its temperature helps him cool off from the summer heat. He is relieved in a more visual manner as his eyeballs close softly, not out of sleep but like he could no longer be burdened and feels free to enjoy here and now.
With the glass in hand, he tumbles the drink and beta under the ice, soft muted sounds of cracking are heard. There is a hint of a smile on his lips and his face is gentle, utterly untroubled. The leaves in the wind catch his hair and the surrounding setting seems to pause waiting for him, calm and with no need to rush. Just as any summer Sunday should be, this one is perfect for sipping, and the drink just has this right amount of cold dropping it brings further comfort.
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