"To make a prairie it takes a clover
and one bee, —
One clover, and a bee,
And reverie.
The reverie alone will do
If bees are few."
-- Emily Dickinson
Friends of the random summer usually rode bicycles and solved mysteries. Now they sat in the library with stacks of old records around them. They listened on a gramophone, most of the records stored the sound of people speaking, some the sound of birds singing. This library was the saddest place. The friends went outside. Yesterday had been dramatic, but today was going to be ok.
-- múm
