First Week of Second Year

The professor for my eight a.m. World Literature class says he hates political and Puritanical correctness. His voice sounds like it’s meant to read stories out loud.

The professor for my Creative Writing class said stories “name our souls. They tell us, ‘Hey, you’re not so weird, you’re okay.’ ” He speaks like the poet he is.

All of my classes this semester consist largely of reading, writing, and discussion. I think my soul is about to flourish.

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