Ahh. It's cool down here. Gazing ahead, there's really not much to look at. But it's so serene down here. The wind dances off my forehead, whips my fringe into a mess. But there's no one here to see. Smile.

All in the lonesome. Having my back propped against a hard surface somehow assures me of a support system, somewhere. Millions of thoughts hushed in submission. It's so quiet down here.

There's something about splaying on the floor. Maybe because I used to do it as a child, it serves the way a keepsake does.

I should really get up now.