Young and reckless

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Nothing is better than spring at sixteen
when you are young, naive, full of hope and everything seems to be somehow significant and foreshadowing something good

adults look at us singing songs on the street at the top of their voices or taking pictures of themselves next to another fashionable wall with graffiti, and they are visited by thoughts of how stupid we are, but at the same time, deep down inside, they dream of being in our place
the waitress accepts an order from our company and while one of my friends is whispering about alcohol in the menu, and someone decides whether to take dessert or save, I notice a good longing in the eyes of the woman serving our table; she probably remembers her friends and her spring in the year she turned sixteen

the sun blinds already at the exit from the entrance in the morning, making the desire to listen to a physics teacher at the first lesson even less, instead you want to dance or drink delicious coffee somewhere in the center of the city - absolutely don't care about the first law of thermodynamics
The need to be in love with someone is deeply felt more than usual, and if fate provides such an opportunity, we "take everything from life"; everyone knows this crazy state

and while we live from weekends to weekends, we call life "unfair" because of biology or mutual sympathy, laugh at classmates' jokes, look forward to summer holidays or spend the night with friends after a week of persuading parents to "let go this time", we do not even mean that one day all this will be just a pretext for nostalgia

Sometimes I want to run up to the passers-by and exclaim in their faces: "Imagine, I am sixteen! everything is just the beginning"

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