Brn has arrived back from France. We talked of Bergson.
"Oh, yeah, thanks for recommending that Deleuze book - it was excellent," a whippersnapping second-year piped as he tumbled past the door of the room Brn and I occupied. At last, I am a guru. The lad's cheeks reddened; he was trying to suppress the lust that he couldn't understand.
Later, I turned to look out the window, as Brn reminisced about the cafés. A student walked past, and adjusted her skirt with a tug. I wouldn't notice this but for the fact that a moment later, another girl strolled by, doing the exact same thing. Tugging the skirt straight.
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