a long shear of light and then a series of low concussions
I just got back from a meeting with an instructor about my seminar paper. We were supposedly discussing nostalgia, pastoral traditions, and apocalypse, but my eyes were trained on her office: the abstract watercolor on the wall, the small laptop, the books hemming everything in. I was looking for clues on how one settles into such a life. How does one maintain? Her throat made pleasing little thick noises between her words.
*
In trying to get class started this morning, I had to ask what was on the iPhone one student was passing around. At first I thought the student said it was a picture someone had taken of me. For a brief moment I thought I was going to have to discuss drag. But no, this was something else.
Apparently, this is how my students think I look. Curse you, Twilight.
*
In trying to get class started this morning, I had to ask what was on the iPhone one student was passing around. At first I thought the student said it was a picture someone had taken of me. For a brief moment I thought I was going to have to discuss drag. But no, this was something else.
Apparently, this is how my students think I look. Curse you, Twilight.
