Stealin’ time… ain’t a crime, she laughs, the hot hazy sun glinting in her sunglasses as she reclines on the contour of a low knoll. Her head falls back with her ginger locks mingling with the tips of the green grass. With a flick of a finger, she pushes her shades down, an eyebrow rises and a sly smile parts her painted lips. Stay the summer, she says with a wink. We’ll have the joint to ourselves.