Revolving doors swallow me whole, then spit me out with a sweeping hiss into the bookish halls of academia. As unpalatable as Jonah it seems. Students' shelter behind clasped tomes with defensive postures and furrowed brows. As the toil of learning weighs heavily upon minds, shoulders and youth. The distracted sea of scholars' does not part for I am no Moses bringing salvation or literary deliverance from deadlines. Rather, preoccupied breakers buffet me. Involuntary empathy manifests itself as the library silence elicits stomach knots and a sense of 'submittal time' unease, walking with an undergraduate stoop . I cast off my déjà vu with a mental shrug for these are no longer my anxieties. Still, I would trade them all at the drop of a hat with the worry weights I carry now. |
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