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Mad, mad midterm week! What was I thinking when I took five courses this semester? On top of two book review columns? That too, knowing how Abantee Miss overworks her students?
I dont know if it's all the weird reading I've been doing, but my dreams are getting pretty messed up. I'm sure I saw my animus two nights ago, and last night I dreamt that some invisible entity had entered my body, and I was floating out of myself...what interpretations do you have for me, Mr Tylor?
I dont know if it's all the weird reading I've been doing, but my dreams are getting pretty messed up. I'm sure I saw my animus two nights ago, and last night I dreamt that some invisible entity had entered my body, and I was floating out of myself...what interpretations do you have for me, Mr Tylor?
Half Empty, Half Full
Stuff about Canada I like (no particular order)
1) Fruits
2) Reliable public transportation
3) Boots!
4) Coats
5) Fast Internet
6) Everyone reads
7) Interac
8) No powercuts
9) No cockroaches
Stuff I miss from home
1) The sound of azaan
2) Cheap cell-phones/rates
3)Hand showers
4)Sushi without mayo
5)Cheap clothes
6) Rain with personality
7)Rickshaw rides
8)Milk that tastes like milk
9)Bird song
Waking up in Coquitlam...
...the first thing I become aware of is absence. Absence of light in the pre-dawn darkness. Absence of sound in this quiet suburb where even birds whisper.
I hold my breath, waiting for homesickness to hit me, for nostalgia, or even the crushing disappointment of waking up that haunted me in the final months in Dhaka. Nothing. Here in my cocoon of sensory deprivation, even emotions are absent.
For want for something - anything - I get up, clean my room, get breakfast, water the plants. The cold hits my unaccustomed skin like shards of glass, and I welcome the bite as I breathe in the air, odorless, clean, into my lungs.
Chores dispatched
Taste
I killed an ant today,
crushed it between my teeth
I can still taste its death in my mouth.
Don't know how it found its way in there
but it bit my lip pretty hard
I wonder if it tasted my blood before it tasted my vengeance?
The vengeance I never intended...
Back at one
*2002*
Sixteen eyes glanced up as I walked into the hastily-improvised, windowless brick-and-tin shed that served as a classroom for the fifth graders. Like veteran shoppers at Karwan Bazaar, they scrutinized me, weighing me with their searching gazes, while the wheels in their heads whirred away, labelling, defining, categorising me.
I stood there, a very frightened eighteen year old, in my ill-fitting printed tunic and floppy jeans, white-knuckled from gripping the register copy.
"Class, this is your new English Literature teacher, Sabrina Miss." Tipping a thin-lipped not-smile at me, the slender, balding Language teacher pivoted on his
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I keep forgetting to ask you... tell me about your Symbology in Religion course. Where are you doing it from and everything...