Meine Schwester =)
…everyone needs to have an autumn like this…
Taethiel, you need to go here. Actually, first you need to visit here. I think you should visit…oh, say…about the first or second weekend in March…*cough*
And pick me up on your way by. *grins*
It is the brightest of Septembers, all frigid mornings and sun-through-windows and hot tea.
The German Literature course is reading Kleist, who writes like a post-post-modernist out of a permanently fractured universe. In 1811 he shot a woman, and then himself, barely 34. Suicide. “Should we read his works, then?” asks the German Professor on the loveliest of afternoons. “Nein,” says Herr Catholicism, who is currently shredding papers and glaring across the classroom. “Wir können nichts von ihm lernen–we can’t learn anything from him.” The German Professor, immaculately dressed and eternally, intensely enigmatic, comes around to stare from the front of the desk. He takes off his glasses and leans all the way over the first row of students. “But does art always have to teach us something?” Such fervor. You think that this professor, who loves Nabokov and the craziest melismas of Baroque opera, would probably answer no…
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