The buzz of dissolved morning in an academic quadrangle. The quiet of absentee humanity, highlighted by the shadows of oak leaves. The pristine overgrowth in sun-bleached concrete planters. A bee, a wasp, and a hornet all come to visit a patch of unbloomed tulips for a little while. I watch the insects and trim the twigs from a finches nest. Reverently retrieved from a fallen branch. Made meticulous by industriousness, and gilded with string and tinsel. My heart weeps at such beauty, and I am grateful to have held it in my hands.
4:26 p.m. - 2021-05-26
Recent entries:
Head Cleaning - 2021-06-17
The Messiness of Silence - 2021-06-11
Of Little Breeze - 2021-06-11
Disgust of 'Neurosexism' - 2021-06-04
A Changed Ravine - 2021-06-04
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