For seven minutes:
The sky gushes, weeps, expostulates beyond the square of window, and the shade of awning.
One free space in my life between homework - and homework...
A crisp emotionless voice decreeing an earthquake
For seven minutes I can write and apologise for the fact that I have attempted to superwomanize myself - and failed miserably.
I can express my extreme impatience toward my class, and my tolerance (?) of their imperfections.
I remember, with distaste, the syndrome of randomness, which many of them have contracted, to a severe degree. Momentary mind blanks last only for five seconds, before they are dully broken by the question, "Why is it so quiet?"
Seven minutes are gone, and doubled.
