2004-02-18
Fishing with a Polar Bear
What a lethargic day...I usually take lunch with my friends out in the courtyard, under the trees, and on a certain bench--that is where a few of us congregate and listen to the music students tune their instruments. The art students will be eating on the grass and sketching something, and the theatre students sometimes practice free skits for our enjoyment--this is the liberal art/magnet school that I attend. I'm not an art student however, I am a law student...but no doubt liberal.
It was quite cold today, and the blood rushed to my face immediately as I entered the classroom. I took off my coat, and finally sat down. I am excessively fond of the winter season...winter feels dry and crisp. A surreal painting made of smoke.
I grip to my coat as Brienne and I walk, and I begin to look at the deadened sky with clouds made of tainted smoke. The grating sounds of the northern birds on the telephone poles make one imagine things. I sometimes wonder if this is what Auschwitz looked like--the same dreariness, the same stillness.
Alas, winter will leave and the spring will come. I was actually born on the first day of spring...but what I enjoy most about spring is fishing with a polar bear--one who scurries me along the path and leads me to the stream.
I wonder what my winters at Rochester will be like. I don't have much time here...I will be leaving quite soon.