Yesterday, in class, a girl at my table turned in mid-sentence, looked me in the eye, and said, “You’ll find her soon.” Amidst the chatter about authentic learning, pedagogy, and oppression, and among strangers who knew nothing, it was impossible to respond. Such perspicacity! Such audacity! A jest, surely, flung at me as I brokenly tried to wrap my head around earnest banter about tasks and classroom evaluation.
Oh, if only she knew what she had said.
Full sentences and imperfect articulation muddle my thoughts; I am physically weary but calm, certain, relieved. No, no, I will not mess this up.
At motorcycle lessons, I scuttle around the circuit with abandon. Faster, slower, he cries. Use your footbrake! Go, go, go! Look up.
In March, I am going to New York, and now, I am going to read, and read.
I first heard this song in 1998, and.
暧昧
王菲眉目里似哭不似哭
还祈求甚么说不出
陪著你轻呼著烟圈
到唇边讲不出满足
你的温柔怎可以捕捉
越来越近却从不接触
la…… la……
茶没有喝光早变酸
从来未热恋已相恋
陪著你天天在兜圈
那缠绕怎么可算短
你的衣裳今天我在穿
未留住你却仍然温暖
徘徊在似苦又甜之间
望不穿这暖昧的眼
爱或情借来填一晚
终须都归还无谓多贪
犹疑在似即若离之间
望不穿这暖昧的眼
似是浓却仍然很淡
天早灰蓝想告别
偏未晚