"I’d sit cross-legged in the box, filtering the sand over and over again through an old spaghetti strainer, getting rid of the sticks and leaves that had fallen, until it was almost as fine as right after he poured the sand from the bag. That was perfect sand."
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Annoyingly Vague Restlessness:
It's what shows up before I hole up in a room, or change majors, or quit jobs, or break up with boyfriends (hey b!), or write self-involved blog entries.
(you know, as opposed to all those other non self-involved entries).