The evolution of perspective, the chronicling of journeys, and a series of overwhelming thoughts.
Long days and early skies allow for observations, so as I sit with my legs folded, I fold my hands across my lap. I do so just as she does, who does so just like her. We all breathe in our own thoughts, ever so opposite, and I observe again. I put this pebble in front of me. Everything breathes here. Them, like russian dolls. Him, with the sad eyes. Two boisterous parakeets. And this pebble.