When I think of America, I think of the heat of a New England summer. The way you don’t spend time outdoors, but move from one air-conditioned building to another. The way you lie on the floor with your arms and legs outstretched or sleep the afternoon away. I think of the heat of the bench against my legs as I try to eat peanut butter and banana ice cream before it melts.
Read the full essay in the Americana issue of Synaesthesia Magazine.
Illustration: Nick Coad