I came here to name my demons. To see all the poverty around me. To pay witness to it and to examine the lack of ache to end this in all the bureaucrats around me. I decide to displace it with a brimming joy that is needless.
The winter descends. I watch the Brush Turkeys move in closer, hungry perhaps as there are now no longer available all the ripe seeds of spring. I anger to find myself still teaching and decide to find a new path. I decide to talk to people of their anger rather than still it with the threat of detentions or failure in the classroom.