January 14, 2018
He lay on the grass with his head up against the tree. Maybe he laid on the grass. Some of these things are more difficult than they need to be. Anyway, the grass was green and the edges of the grass blades were stiff and sharp. They would cut him if he moved the wrong way. It wouldn’t be a bad cut, but a cut it would be nevertheless. The bark on the tree was rough against his head, in a soft, friendly way, like leather. He was not really in a comfortable position, but stayed where he was anyway.