Laundry, blackberries, fresh cut grass. Your boots in the grass. A light breeze guides you on your way. And yet there’s nowhere in particular to be. The comforting scent of laundry wafts across the yard. You pick some late-season berries, so ripe and juicy you have to lick your fingertips like a kitten lapping up milk. It’s your day. It’s where you belong. And it’s all okay.