bitter basil, (hozier)

august 5th, 1969 - afternoon

diary of judy carver (DO NOT READ)
deep within the corners of my subconscious
he is there, speaking to me
in a language only we understand
i have yet to pull his words to the front of my mind
to let myself be held by him
but i know that when i do,
i'll fall completely.

judy and andrew were well within new york now. they found themselves planning for the festival too early on, and now they have a week and a half yet.

neither of them were complaining.

judy was driving, andrew sound asleep in the passengers seat. it was nice when he slept, judy felt. she'd pinned andrew for quite the night owl - rightfully so - so when he did fall into slumber, she knew that he needed it. you could even venture to say that it gave her a sense of relief.

she just passed the welcome sign for bethel when andrew came to, his eyes opening slowly.

"there you are," judy said happily, keeping her eyes on the road. "how'd you sleep?"

"like a wee babe," andrew responded with a sigh. "you really didn't have to let me sleep for that long."

judy shook her head. "if i didn't make sure you slept then, i don't know when i'd get another chance to, you lil' insomniac!" she joked.

andrew smiled gratefully. it was near obvious to him that judy was saying that out of care, and it touched him deeply. "where are we off to next?"

"well, first things first, i want a doughnut," said judy. "then after that, i'd like to find a park and take some photos." she spared a quick wink at andrew. "mikey left some instant film in the glove compartment."

"sounds like you've got quite the day planned," andrew said, letting out a yawn. when judy furrowed her eyebrows, he gave her a warm, reassuring grin. "and i want nothing more than to spend it with you." damn, andy, he thought. you're laying it on too thick.

judy shook her head slowly and smiled, pulling into a small doughnut shop on the side of the road. she turned off the engine and let out a sharp exhale, turning to the passenger's seat. "i never did thank you, andrew," she started.

she never thanked him?

"whatever for?" andrew asked.

"for being here. coming with me. i'd definitely go insane trying to leave all by myself," she said. "so thank you."

andrew's heart swelled, nearly pouring out of his ribs. "it's really no trouble," he said, "and you can call me andy."

-

after fulfilling judy's wishes for a doughnut, they found a nice little town park. with judy's polaroid, they walked along the winding asphalt trail. sometimes, andy observed, judy would point out little caterpillars skittering along the trail. she'd talk about the butterflies they'd soon turn into.

"i like to imagine that when a caterpillar turns into a butterfly, the change happens inwardly as well as outwardly," she said, "like their true selves bloom. life is beautiful like that."

andy was sitting next to her and religiously taking in her words, analyzing them like sweet poetry.
"that's a really beautiful notion, judy."