Today, I noticed something peculiar.
I noticed my heart pounding violently and jubilantly, after I realized my assigned reading was about politics and justice. Shouldn’t that irritate a normal person? Nay, says my heart.
This reminded me of my dry history with words, as I see myself flipping through history books as a 6 years old, ripping pages from Fitzgerald to draw demons and sorcerers. Or when I preferred to read Kant over Oscar Wilde’s witty letters. Or when I yelled how Aristotle was much easier to read than Plato, as I heard everyone else in the class expressing the opposite. Or how my eyes become wide and attentive, when someone mentions anything about socialism or libertarianism, frowning at the latter. Unfortunately, any talk about morality or politics excites me more than exquisite poetry and ornate prose….
Yes, I study French literature…
Sorry, Mme Rohrer.