5/19/2017

My eyes opened this morning to a soft warm light passing through the walls of my yellow tent. I checked the time, there was enough to lay there for a moment and listen. The river was white noise in the distance. Above me birds were chittering from one tree to another. Nearby a crow called, and though I actively dislike crows for their harsh voices, its tone acted as an entrancing accent to the symphony I was surrounded by.