(no subject)

It's been a long time since I really used this, other than to spy. Funny, how somethin' that used to be such a big part of my life has just been dead weight at the bottom of my bag for so long. Of all the things of Paradisa's that we can't kill, a bunch of damned books happen to be the most of our worries.

I don't think John or Thomas have opened theirs since we left, but then again, maybe we all sneak glances at it when no one's looking. They all give me guilty looks when I open 'er up, but I ain't stupid. I know deep down they want to, and when it's quiet, they read everything.

If there's anything I've learned out here, it's that there ain't no sense in lyin' to each other. Each other is all we have.

Spring's rearing its head in these parts, and it couldn't have come at a better time. Some of the children found some patches of bloodberries growing, a couple days from ripe, and we asked if we could hang back a few days to wait 'em out, but he was in a foul mood and wasn't havin' none of it. We rarely pass through these parts, so there was a lot of fuss. The children cried. It ended with hurt feelings over a couple baskets of berries.

I felt like cryin' myself. Imagine that, grown woman in tears over bloodberries. Real nonsense, all of it.