and then our exile

washing the air with colour,
spits the morning sun, pitiless

"because they have so little poetry in their lives, they are so literal"
i talked to the drama instructor afterwards, exuberant about how my 'photograph' went. i hadn't done the assignment assigned, had tried something else, giving each person a role but without giving any indication of what the greater whole was going to become. watching, questioning, as the twenty-odd people in the class hesitated and then yielded, absorbing the sentiment: seven or so mighty, arrogant, seductive, pleased; a mass of adoring, devout, surrendering; a withered, nostalgic forest. discussion afterwards, delighted at how it meant such differing things to each, and how closely they paralleled my own idea.

...(beauty / is a possession) – people.

if tonight you are not going to the MSA eid dinner, come to the icentre lobby at 5, because there is a documentary on hugo chavez.