Pluto
The rustling of paper and the clacking of keyboards fills the lecture hall as the professor says his final remarks before sending them off for the day, "17th Century London provides us with a clear example of how ideas on morality and gender can shift drastically within the span of a few decades."
The man's voice trails off as the boy revels in his accomplishment, finally being able to attend all of his classes after an incredibly sick Friday afternoon, a spontaneous conversation outside in the cold, brisk November weather, and an outing for ice cream with an unfortunate friend who'd just lost their wallet; experiences that he would have missed any class for.
However in a life full of uncertainty and unfinished tasks (especially as of late), he feels a sense of pride in finishing a full day at school, not even worrying about the two hour trek back home, or his Psychology paper due in 4 days, not even the youth camp in which he'd be serving at in less than 36 hours.
In that moment alone, as he sits with his two friends from Indonesia, both a year older than him, he feels like he belongs; a mark on the board that he finally hit after God knows how many tries.
But maybe he's just making a little bit too much out of so little, pumping up his self-confidence like a bike tire in the heat of the summer; marvelling at the sight of a single flower in a barren field.
It's hard to live in the darkness without looking up, searching for a way out of the hole that he has stumbled into; at one moment finding himself at the peak of the mountain and the next at the bottom of the valley. Perhaps even successfully going to all of his classes for the first few weeks and eventually losing the will to get up in the morning just to get to the bus stop. He understands that it is the reality of his life and it probably won't change. And as he keeps wandering, he keeps getting lost; further and further away from where he used to be.
He's starting to realize that all it takes is for one star to be seen, to be acknowledged.
As he is sitting down in the midst of hundreds of students and typing down his notes, he is no longer paying attention to the man in the centre of it all but rather to his own thoughts. A shiver runs down his back as a breeze escapes through the crevice of the door and into the audience; waking up anyone who may have fallen asleep, but not him.
He is awakened and he looks up at his life, seeing the single star of a finished school day.
As he looks a little longer, small radiances appear encircling this single star, a sickly Friday evening spent napping at a dear friend's house, an impromptu conversation leading its way to the Rose Garden on a rainy day, and an order of two salted caramel single scoop ice cream cups for a person who'd lost (but would later find) their wallet, and a boy staring into the sky.
AMDG
The man's voice trails off as the boy revels in his accomplishment, finally being able to attend all of his classes after an incredibly sick Friday afternoon, a spontaneous conversation outside in the cold, brisk November weather, and an outing for ice cream with an unfortunate friend who'd just lost their wallet; experiences that he would have missed any class for.
However in a life full of uncertainty and unfinished tasks (especially as of late), he feels a sense of pride in finishing a full day at school, not even worrying about the two hour trek back home, or his Psychology paper due in 4 days, not even the youth camp in which he'd be serving at in less than 36 hours.In that moment alone, as he sits with his two friends from Indonesia, both a year older than him, he feels like he belongs; a mark on the board that he finally hit after God knows how many tries.
But maybe he's just making a little bit too much out of so little, pumping up his self-confidence like a bike tire in the heat of the summer; marvelling at the sight of a single flower in a barren field.
It's hard to live in the darkness without looking up, searching for a way out of the hole that he has stumbled into; at one moment finding himself at the peak of the mountain and the next at the bottom of the valley. Perhaps even successfully going to all of his classes for the first few weeks and eventually losing the will to get up in the morning just to get to the bus stop. He understands that it is the reality of his life and it probably won't change. And as he keeps wandering, he keeps getting lost; further and further away from where he used to be.
He's starting to realize that all it takes is for one star to be seen, to be acknowledged.
As he is sitting down in the midst of hundreds of students and typing down his notes, he is no longer paying attention to the man in the centre of it all but rather to his own thoughts. A shiver runs down his back as a breeze escapes through the crevice of the door and into the audience; waking up anyone who may have fallen asleep, but not him.
He is awakened and he looks up at his life, seeing the single star of a finished school day.
As he looks a little longer, small radiances appear encircling this single star, a sickly Friday evening spent napping at a dear friend's house, an impromptu conversation leading its way to the Rose Garden on a rainy day, and an order of two salted caramel single scoop ice cream cups for a person who'd lost (but would later find) their wallet, and a boy staring into the sky.
AMDG
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