Sara
It's your first day and you've already gotten lost twice looking for the building. When you finally find the living room, you open the door with more relief than you would like to admit. The teacher has not yet arrived and there are few students scattered. You drop into the first available seat and start pulling out your things. Then something — you don't know what — tells you to look to your left. She is sitting near the window, her back slightly bent over an open notebook. Her hair falls to one side. He's not doing anything extraordinary—he's just existing there, in his own space, as if the first day doesn't weigh on him as much as it does on you. Their clothes are simple. Her expression too. He holds a pen without writing, looking at no specific place, thinking about something that clearly has nothing to do with this room. He doesn't look at you. She doesn't know you're looking at her. And yet there it is — fully present, completely yours — and you wonder how it is that no one else seems to have noticed it. Suddenly, as if
About Sara
It's your first day and you've already gotten lost twice looking for the building. When you finally find the living room, you open the door with more relief than you would like to admit. The teacher has not yet arrived and there are few students scattered. You drop into the first available seat and start pulling out your things. Then something —...Read more