Started classes on Tuesday. Yep. I’m still a freak. I love them. I’m intrigued by new new classmates, excited by new opportunities and energized by the feeling of intellectual synergy that permeates campus the first week of classes. I am glad to be here.

But every now and then something [a freshman speckled with tiny moles on his face like Araujo, the sliced lime sticker on the back of someone’s shiny new macbook, the smell of chalk] will trip my hypersensitive synapses and I feel my heart reaching, grasping, squeezing through my ribs for….what? For Paraguay? For my students, my friends? For this whole idea and what it could be…

It hurts a little.


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