After a day spent wrangling dogs and a night in Adams Morgan I decided today called for something a little more leisurely, so I grabbed blanket, book, and iPod and headed to my secret spot. Down the street from my apartment there is a little park filled with fountains and other water features. On weekends there are always people standing in front of the fountains having wedding/prom/quinceañera photos taken. At the back of the park, a paved path winds its way up and around a grassy knoll. Few people go up that way.
I like to lay there on the hill and forget the world exists. The feel of the pages under my fingertips, the fluid poetry of Puccini on my iPod, the softness of the blanket, the smell of the grass, the coolness in the air, the sound of the water from the fountains, and the thrum and rattle of trains passing on the backside of the hill all formed a perfect equation of relaxation.
For a few hours today, this little patch of grass was my own private desert island.
(Taken with my Nikon Coolpix S200)
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