On a bench at Main City Park.

Last night was a pleasant one. As stressed as I am about my summer classes – you know, doing them right…or getting them done at all – I still manage to find time (if only for a few minutes) to be with people I love engaging the lungs in activities controversial (talking, of course). In the midst of memories and reenactments galore I am struck by the picture that if taken of us would hang framed on my wall, or stamped in my mind to be discovered on some future date when I had long forgotten the joys of youthful community and unhealthy habits and voiced, inexperienced perceptions of love, life and marriage. Four people arranged on a bench, observing the behavior of rabbits that hop vapidly across the horseshoe lanes out of sight and laughing together in communal enjoyment of something to do with their hands while they talk. These are nights I hope to remember.

There is something oddly poetic about everyday life that cannot be explained in naturalistic terms. Tease me all you want guys, (Nico, Matt and Adam), but my tendency toward the dramatic is an expression of love for you.