sjsprWriting

     Monica writes intensly; her eyes fixed to the paper; her pen moving in sharp, elegant strokes; her other hand falls freely over the edge of the desk, bending at the wrist and then at every joint in her fingers; her head rests on her arm, tired of the constant and meticulous thinking that this school arrogantly demands of her. She has written a paragraph.

     The board flashes with the word countenance, and Monica looks up at the distraction. She lifts her head and folds her secondary arm under it to create a pillow for her temple. She gives this new position her countenance and resumes writing. Perhaps she likes what she is writing and will share it with the class, where her fellow classmates will give her the countenance she seeks. She has written two paragraphs.

     But she does not give countenance to me. I did not do my job yesterday; I let my project members down, and someone else had to do the work for me. But Monica, you do not know how happy I am because of this. For the first time, I have slumped and been picked back up by a friend. For the first time, I was supported through my rough instead of chastised for my fault. For the first time, someone had my back. You may not know this Monica, but we find ourselves living in a poisoned society filled with selfish people all around, so it is nice and refreshing to see that there is still some hope for the future.

Metronomy - The Bay

Lemaitre - Appreciate