Two Things Pass in Between - Time and Life
As of late, what brings me running to my literary theory classes is my professor. Like most women, she has an amazing smile, a soft voice, hair of great flare, and an almost magical presence that welcomes even the departmental cat into the whitewashed chambers of a department that has mostly failed to bring us running to literary theory classes in the morning - as of yet. There is a strange relatability I find with theory lesson in life sometimes, all thanks to this professor who brings both the human and the cat under the same roof in her attempt to teach us what forms the Modern. The word tugs at me with its funny accent and deliberate imageries reminding how I had passed 18 years of my life studying in a school literally named 'Modern School'. I wonder sitting in class if I might have been really ahead of my time, holding an ID at the age of four, walking into whitewashed chambers that literally had Modern written on all its walls? The cat yawns. As my professor continues
