The Asylum (Editing in Progress)

III

Once we were outside, everyone shared. David was going to let us run around in the sun for a while after we shared and he gave his announcements.
"Alright, listen up." He said, clasping his hands together. "We've got a shipment. There's something in it for all of you. There's a microphone and speaker," he looked at a sqealing Charlie and smiled, then continued, "there's a new eisel and some art supplies for a Mr. Patrick," this received a smile from him, "a shipment of new clothes for Skai," she practically jumped up and hollered, "some books for John, film for Marcelene, and some Mets merchandise for Frank." Apparently we were in the presence of Frank at the moment, and he just have us a thumbs up and drank his soda.
"And last, but not the least, we have a crate of two of records for Oliver." I smiled immediately, excited to look through my new records, to listen to different music. Twelve records can get a bit tiresome when you listen to them everyday for a year and a half.
"Before we go back in, I have another announcement." David said patiently. I wasn't paying much attention. I was thinking about the new records. The sound of the needle touching the vinyl disk, that little black disk, with all it's grooves and dips. No matter how many times you play it, it'll sound as beautiful and smooth and as clear as the first time you listened to it. You could never get that from digitally downloaded music or from a CD. There's a sort of ambiance that comes from a vinyl, smooth and retro, familiar and personal.
David let us roam about in the yard. The grass was still dead from the months of snow and frost being lain atop it, the trees still bare and desolate. I guess there was a sort of beauty within the lack of vibrancy. This was a new beginning for the trees, the grass, shrubs, bushes, the flowers. They would start all over come spring. I envied them. They didn't have to stick with the same life, the same story, like me. They grew old and died, but were reborn months later, bringing about a new beauty.
I sat in a patch of sunshine, admiring Skai as she did cartwheel after cartwheel in the warm breeze. She laughed and smiled and carried on. Marcelene had her camera out, and Skai seemed to enjoy being the subject of Marcelene's pictures. She posed by the trees, on the ground, anywhere.
Patrick was sketching a bare tree. Looking from the tree, to his pad, then back to the tree. Charlie and John sat beside me on the ground. Charlie hummed a melody, soft and sweet, graceful, gentle, like her. John was looking around aimlessly like me.
I guess it could be worse.