Wednesday mornings in the park are not crowded as a general rule, especially in the middle of October. That’s why I love to go there – it’s just me and my notebook and my thoughts. Lately I’ve been in a bit of a writing slump. And so I pick up my things and I head over to the park, where a light breeze and inspiration are always abundant.

It’s one of those days that makes me happy I’m alive. The sky is an unbelievable shade. It’s unseasonably warm.

I find a place under a broad oak, beside a boy who has fallen asleep. He is so simplistically beautiful. The lines of his face are soft, and his dark hair falls into his sleeping eyes. One arm is thrown carelessly over his face.

He was my inspiration. I sat there beside him for well over an hour, filling up page upon page of the best prose I have ever written.

I’ve never been much of an artist, but I felt compelled to sketch that boy. I wrote underneath, simply, “You are beautiful,” and signed it. Then I stuck it under his head and I headed back home.