After academia adventures through mostly mediocre expressions sentiments of devotion now bubble from the brim of the Shameless ones desire.
I arrived at uni just as I received a text from meu Cara that class was canceled. In more timely eeriness than I care to explore, the Legendary Professor approached me.
"Class has been canceled," says He.
"I know," says Me.
Yet 30 minutes of concrete blur, compounded by 20$ of would be "taxi fares" leaves me in no haste to leave. Not until something productive has been wrought. At least.
Cara leads me into the lounge where he says I will spend the majority of my study life. I read 20 pages. Time takes an hour and half. Either I'm slow or the Cara was right, and I'm banking on him. After all, this task of mastery is not for the slow in thought, but the patient in persistence.
After the differences between direct, representative and deliberate implant themselves into my memory an Ice Cream Social begins.
Screw this! I crave Blue Bell's Great Divide and social eye candy.
I get Blue Bell's Great Divide and social eye candy, while opening the doors of diversion. The lounge now houses other characters, future/inthemaking/perhapsalready brilliant minds of societal progression crowd around the table to watch Dora the Explorer parodies on collegehumor.com.
The day trudges along, the Cara comes and goes. The Vagabond proves very opposite. I'm still here, and post war Europe, although enlightening, is no less depressing than when I began 20 pages past.
"Of those who were liberated 4 out of 10 died within a few weeks of the arrival of Allied armies." (Judt pg. 24)
This stuff cures ignorance. It cultivates and clarifies passion.
I love what I'm doing. I Shamelessly bury my face in books and I can't help but think that I really enjoy this. It's time to leave. I don't want to wait 3 days to feel this way again.