seventh heaven in 208

Tiny classroom. claustrophic and mesmerized. wet and shivering and spellbound. magic, just pure magic.
2 hours. my cell phone rings and rings and vibrates and rings. i dont hear it and i dont feel it. i hear his voice, speaking of books ive never heard of, talking of modern art and renaissance and impressionism, discussing classical music, beethoven and the beatles, mozart and bob dylan. ive fallen in love. with the words, with the ideas, with the ceativity throbbing in my veins, with all the potential that can come alive, can be coloured, painted, even scribbled in crayons with inexperienced hands – it will still be beautiful, it will still be accepted. why will it be accepted, who will it be acccepted by? learn to question, learn how to answer questions. ive fallen in love with all the books i have never heard of, never read, and i always considered myself so well read. i love the idea that there is so much i do not know, and soon there will be so much i will have learnt. i have fallen in love with the idea of going and looking for these books in relatives bookshelves, in piles in a secondhand bookshop, in a dusty college library. i have fallen in passionate love at going to art galleries and cocking my head at paintings and paint and swirls and squiggles and all of it modern and complicated and for me to discover and interpret. thats the best part of modern art. you can always consider it yours because no-one else can see it the way you do. i have fallen in love with the idea of delving into music, classical gods who are immortal.
in 2 hours, i discovered pure magic. my first taste of magic. in room 208.
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