She takes you home with her, back to a patchwork town and park benches. The two of you spend the last days of a late summer flush chasing each other through hillsides. She feeds you huckleberry jam from her fingertips, leads you by sunburnt arms to the spot of her first kiss, to the watering holes she frequented as a child. She hums, over the hills and through the woods, while you climb, while you lay, while you laugh and drink cheep beer from the corner store. She tells you so many stories about one summer that you actually start to understand how many girls she had been before she became your woman.
Michael Donovan and model Abi Renner give us a glimpse into one of those trips, like a pilgrimage to the place that made you, back home. We are instantly fifteen and the hot days so long that anything seems possible. The whole series tastes like sunshine and moonshine and driving back-town dirt roads with the windows down. Going home with someone is like meeting the precursor to the person you know, their intricacies and oddities mined from the hills and dredged up from the river bottom for the both of you to explore.