Arcadia

76

Sometimes, I think of the world as the ladybird on the street that I once saved by letting it climb onto a shred of a polythene and transferring it to the side of the road away from the uncaring feet of passerby's. It was the time I had been to the mountains. I don't know how long ladybirds live, but I had been so  happy that day. I had bought myself a long red coat and I felt so small and lovable inside of it. The mountains were dark, but the town square was lit up with happy people, the kid who sold me our tea wanted me to watch him run across to the other end and come back. I complied, I knew what a beautiful thing it was to be watched, after all.

I hope the ladybird is doing well.