A Little Boy in a Park

I visited a park one summer afternoon with a friend. We strolled through the gardens, admiring the deep shades of green foliage, burnt by the sun, and the smell of water fizzling on the cement. At one point we sat in the shade, where the yellow rays were lightest, deciding to converse while watching eager youths play in the weathered cement courts. After some time, a boy came up to me and looked at my tattoos. He pointed at one, and told me, "you like puzzles", then pointed to the other, an outline of a circle on my forearm, and whispered "you believe in god".