The Notebook Page #3

you were kinda...

Kinda what?

Just...

- Free.

- What?

Free.

I am free.

You don't seem like it.

Well, I am.

Come here,

I want to show you something.

- Noah, what are you doing?

- Just come on.

- You're gonna get run over.

- By all the cars?

My Dad and I used

to come out here

and lay down and watch

the lights change.

And watch them go

from green to red to yellow.

You could try it,

if you wanted to.

- No.

- Why not?

Because I don't know...

will you just get up?

That's your problem,

you know that?

You don't do

what you want.

Okay.

What happens

if a car comes?

- We die.

- What?

Just relax.

Just trust.

You need to learn

how to trust.

Okay.

- Painting.

- Hmm?

You asked me

what I do for me.

- What now?

- I love to paint.

- Yeah?

- Mm-hmm.

Huh.

Most of the time, I have all these

thoughts bouncing around in my head.

But with a brush

in my hand,

the world just gets

kinda quiet.

Get out of the street!

Are you okay?

Why are you laughing?

Oh, that was fun.

Do you want

to dance with me?

Sure.

- Now?

- Mm-hmm.

- Here?

- Mm-hmm.

Not supposed to dance

in the middle of the street.

Who said dance

in the street?

And we don't

have any music.

Well,

we'll make some.

# Bum bum #

# Bum bum bum #

# Bum #

# Bum bum #

# Bum bum bum

bum bum. #

You're a terrible singer.

I know.

But I like this song.

# I'll be seeing you #

# In all the old #

# Familiar places #

# That this heart

of mine #

# Embraces #

# All day

and through #

# In that small cafe #

# The park

across the way #

# The children's

carousel #

- # The chestnut trees... #

- Southern summers

are indifferent

to the trials of young love.

- # The wishing well #

- Armed with warnings and doubts,

Noah and Allie gave a remarkably

convincing portrayal of a boy and a girl

traveling down

a very long road

with no regard

for the consequences.

They fell in love,

didn't they?

- Yes, they did.

- Good.

I like this kind

of story. Go on.

After that night,

Allie and Noah spent

every waking hour together.

And soon

they were inseparable.

- Noah, come on.

- Your boat cannot beat me there.

- That's really nice.

- Mmm, mmm, mmm...

"Beautiful dripping fragments.

The negligent list

of one after another,

as I happen to call

them to me.

Or drink to them.

The real poems,

what we call poems,

being merely pictures.

The poems of the privacy of the night.

And of men like me.

This poem,

drooping shy and unseen,

that I always carry.

And that all men carry."

Not bad for Whitman.

Hey, look,

we got a visitor.

I'm sorry,

I didn't mean to interrupt.

Well, don't apologize,

come on up here, darling.

We could use a little something here

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