"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, April 5, 2009
Late night musing
The joy and pain of being a student (and a teenager, and a child) is that someone is telling you what to do. Write a paper by this date. Be home by this time. Don't stick your finger in the light socket.
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