newspapers. everywhere. it was yesterday when they turned up. must've been stacks of them before they were like this - scattered throughout the park.
i've thought about taking a garbage bag down there and picking them up but... there's something pleasing about watching them interact with their new environment; the way the wind carries them, the way they spread out into all that space as if nothing neatly arranged wants to stay that way.
i watch as they attempt to share their news with the world. but the trees are silent and the grass is oblivious. the print on their pages means nothing to them.
i wonder what news the leaves tell of in a language we don't understand. of golden and green. of things passed and of things to come.
"change," they say.
that is the message they spread on the wind... change.