i do have lots on my mind, but sitting here and writing all those little nothings sounds better than trying to put my thoughts into words that will in the end only come out a jumbled mess and not make sense to anyone.
the cemetery here isn’t just a green field with row after row of smooth granite and stone and trees here and there.Â it’s a garden with a brick path to walk through and in the back of each tiny garden you’ll find the gravestone.Â
many go there.Â some to sit and look, others to plant flowers, some to cry — i saw it all today.Â i sawÂ a little old lady, all bundled up in her jacket and hat, sitting in her wheelchair with a potted flower and spade in her hand.Â a younger boy pushed her through the gate and i wondered what had happened and who it was that she had loved so dearly that was now lying there.Â i saw two girls and a boy my age walking out, hands in pockets, and noses red.Â they looked distraught and i felt their pain.Â there was an old man, bent over, as he made his way with the aid of his cane, heading for a certain section in the vast garden.Â
i love watching people.
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at home i had a certain way i always took on walks.Â after six weeks, i’ve found my way here.Â through the country, over the bridge, through the path in the woods that passes two tin houses, and back into town.Â it takes forty-five minutes and is beautiful.Â
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i walked into my room yesterday afternoon andÂ found post-it notes stuck to everything with it’s german name on it.Â my dear roommate heard me talk enough about wanting to learn german and decided to help me.Â now to memorize them.Â i’ve been trying out some words for over a week now and i don’t think i’ll ever sound german.Â everytime i say something, my german roommate with laugh and say, “you sound so spanish!”Â or “oh no, louissa.Â that is not a french word!”Â
so great, i have a spanish and french accent when i speak german.Â that’s just dandy.