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third, feb the night before i dropped his class, the professor revealed that, "we spend 90% of our lives inside our own heads." why did this frighten me. we're packed so tightly in this apartment, i feel like bent mail in a postal box or a chicken ready to lay her eggs in the wooden coop. i can hear my neighbor shaving; i recognize the fish-tail flop of the razor being shook in the water. i heard it was snowing back home. wishing i were there, i think maybe the White would agree to shock me into remembering where the warm electricity within me went. |