I don't know...
Crafty by means of secrecy, the words, as they form themselves in an order completely unknown to me, remain protected from wandering eyes. They glance, they quickly see that it may not be notes that I am taking, but observing the Other. We, Page, can keep this knowledge between us, and laughter may ensue be it that this agreement should be made in the mutual understanding of its significance to my comical observation. Let that be put to rest for a time being...we can move along now.
I cannot claim to comprehend what it is being spilled by female professor; spilled meaning the literal form, where words and facts and guided views pour forthwith from the mouth with such tremendous quantities that I recede to the safe barriers of my mind.
For some reason, a new occupant, my literal left, claims grounds on territory never treaded by this lifer's feet before. Why these feet feel the need to stray further from comfortable distant territory, that (interestingly enough) is now unoccupied upon the desertion of its occupant? Believe you me, I cannot come to any noteworthy conclusion, but still I find trouble in the thought of the intentions of my literal left. Does literal left not know who sits to their literal right? How dare left assume a position next to right! Without permission, the unassuaged respect of the literal right goes without consideration, and rage may portray paper in a state of utter chaos. Please forgive the author, he means well...
And so, without shame, I will go on wondering, all the while literal left shall remain unaware of my intentions to act 'nothing of the sort', to which grievances will be made.
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