DIARY GARDENS

little pages where people left pieces of themselves.

the sparkle signals led me to diary gardens.

some were carefully watered.

some had not been visited in years.

inside them were ordinary things: a rainy afternoon, a favorite song, a small sadness, a photograph of a desk, a sentence written because someone wanted to be known.

i think diary gardens are brave.

they say: i was here, and this mattered to me.