nine june
four : thirty-eight

i lay awake for a long time after i turned the light out, wondering who else could hear the beautiful, quiet bird song.

we went to the park this afternoon. i sat on the concrete turtle sculpture (whom we affectionately call nigel), and he sat on the ground, writing in the sand with his index finger. i meant to ask what it said..

but i guess i don't have the courage for that.