At my purest state of joy, you will find me on top of my roof on a summer evening reading a book. This joy feels warm on my face as it is as golden as sunshine yellow. As I flip the pages, the light wind makes my joy smell as pure as the clear ocean breeze. As the corners of my mouth rise to a content smile, the light wind from the pages touched my tongue. This joy tastes minty fresh in my mouth, keeping me excited and energized. The crisp sound of flipping pages is converted to blissful ringing in my ear like the light strumming of a perfectly tuned acoustic guitar played by John Mayer. Although my fingers touch the pages every minute, the last thing on my mind is the scratchy feeling of rough schoolwork paper that feels like sandpaper grinding on the side of my left hand as I scurry to jot down all of the notes. I look out at the setting sun in front of me as I sit criss-crossed on my roof. My joy flutters in my heart like a monarch eagerly traveling to his destination. I analyze the multiple colors the sunset has to offer. The orange tinted sky reminds me of joy experienced when drinking a cold glass of freshly squeezed orange juice on a humid summer day in Chicago. Every time my joy overtakes me, I feel as though I have been transported to an open field of tall grass that extends for miles as the bright red sun sets along the horizon. The weather is always comfortably sunny yet slightly breezy when I am in a state of content: absolutely the polar opposite of what would ever be experienced on Antarctica’s best day of weather. And as I sit, soaked in all of these positively bearing experiences, I’m at my purest state of joy.