White Dust

On my hands, between the ridges of every finger print, in my nose, on my clothes.


I think there must be some ailment called, “white lung,” somewhere.  Has to be.  You breathe so much of it in.  Every cord to every electrical appliance is covered with it, and dirt from the floor.  The cords, and the speaker wire, and the laptop, and my purse, and my shoes, and my pants, and…

Try to wash it off between classes, and your once white hands then become dried out, parched claws.

Chalk is evil.

Oh, and random thing.  Went to buy some gum today as an excuse to leave campus and have a smoke.  I didn’t speak to the woman as I got out my coins, but after I paid, she said, “thank you very much!”  That is THE FIRST TIME in three weeks that someone has assumed I am a foreigner, and it was weird and kind of amazing to me.  Maybe it was because I was a total slob today, given that I had no classes I didn’t wear teacher clothes.

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