Critical Holidays
It's that time of the year again, when the snow's everywhere; young children having the best time of their lives, playing on their sledges with big daddy, who couldn't go to work for the same reason why school's been closed today. The world is covered in snow; no school, no work, the whole family coming together, throwing snowballs at one another until their noses get red, and snuggling and cuddling at home until they're all warm together again; it's a perfect Christmas.
It is this time of the year when the world is governed by joy. At night, under gray sky and behind quiet roads, warm windows appear to decorate the white quilt chilling the land into peaceful slumber. Outside every yard, a snowman stands guard, and inside, there's always a student of Critical Theory somewhere ramming his head against a keyboard or a wall.
It is this time of the year when the world is governed by joy. At night, under gray sky and behind quiet roads, warm windows appear to decorate the white quilt chilling the land into peaceful slumber. Outside every yard, a snowman stands guard, and inside, there's always a student of Critical Theory somewhere ramming his head against a keyboard or a wall.