Since I saw Spring Awakening in May, everywhere I turn I am reminded of it. When I see pictures of grassy medows I think of the innocent times Melchior and Wendla fell madly in love. When I see a wigwam, I think of the times Moritz and Ilse had foolishly played, hidden from adulthood and reality. When I see knee high tights, I am reminded of Wendla’s venture into womanhood. When I hear the words Virgil and equations, I think of the homework assignments Moritz left forever unfinished. When I see a microphone stand I think of Moritz holding it upside down and letting his emotions of his character flow through it. And last but not least, when I see a blue butterfly, I know that everything will be okay because all shall know the wonder of purple summer.