"My ribs sweat," he said as I looked over a dead author's words.
"Pardon me, I relapse into my days of heavy use," the doctor explained. "You see, times were quite paradoxical."
He laughed.
I stared.
The moment passed.
He returned with the crispness of his starched oxford and wrinkle free Dockers intact, but his clarity remained staggered and opaque.
However, there was no cloudiness to his vision and the agenda never strayed.
The doctor was a virgin and disliked politics.
"There is no place for grammar in this society," he boasted, "believe me, I wrote the book."
Believe him I did.
The breath of his intellect reminded me of the idiosyncratic past.
It smelled of the theatre, Aristotle and the simple smoke of a beatnik.
Natural thought equals liberation.
Politics equals control.
"Pardon me, I relapse into my days of heavy use," the doctor explained. "You see, times were quite paradoxical."
He laughed.
I stared.
The moment passed.
He returned with the crispness of his starched oxford and wrinkle free Dockers intact, but his clarity remained staggered and opaque.
However, there was no cloudiness to his vision and the agenda never strayed.
The doctor was a virgin and disliked politics.
"There is no place for grammar in this society," he boasted, "believe me, I wrote the book."
Believe him I did.
The breath of his intellect reminded me of the idiosyncratic past.
It smelled of the theatre, Aristotle and the simple smoke of a beatnik.
Natural thought equals liberation.
Politics equals control.
