stemmedfromMessself-indulgence.Hehadwrittenononlyonesideoftheeighty-eightsheetsofpaper.Iturhebookupside-downandwrotemytrarystoryintheoppositedire.Whilethatjournalisinashesnowwithsomuchelse,Iattesttoitsbasitents:anaturalistsjournalrecmyobservationsoflifeintheforest,pletewithdrawingsoffoundobjects—adiaryofthebestyearsofmylife.

    Myiddarhelpedmetrackthepassingtime,whichfellintoaneasyrhythm.Ikeptuphopeforyears,butnooneevercameforme.Heartbreakranlikeanundercurrentoftime,butdespairwouldeandgoliketheshadowofclouds.Thoseyearsweremixedwiththehappinessbroughtbymyfriendsandpanions,andasIagedinside,acasualnothingdrowheboy.

    Thesnowsstoppedbymid-Marchmostyears,andafewweekslatertheielt,greenlifewouldbud,ishatch,birdsreturn,fishandfrogsreadyforthecatg.Springinstantlyrestoredourenergies,thelengtheninglightcorrespondingtoouriinexploration.Wewouldthrowoffourhidesandruinedblas,shedourjacketsandshoes.ThefirstwarmdayinMay,nineofuswouldgodowntotheriverandbatheourstinkingbodies,drowntheverminlivinginourhair,scrapeoffthecakeddirtandscum.Once,Blommahadstolenabarofsasstation,andwescrubbeditawaytoasplinterinasinglerenewingbath.Palebodiesonapebblyshore,rubbedpinkand.

    Thedandelionsblossomedfromnowhere,andthespringonionssproutedinthemeadows,andourOnionswouldgeherself,eatingthebulbsandgrass,stainieethandmouthgreen,reeking,i,untilherskinitselfsmelledpuandbittersweet.LuchógandSmaolachdistilledthedandelionsintoapotentbrew.MydarhelpedtracktheparadeofberriesstrawberriesinJune,followedbywildblu