“Towards 8, a new classroom, a brand new scope of life. It nestles away in a corner of the school compound, with a green hinging backdoor leading to a brambly-edged garden. Every morning over the 8.30 Ante.Meridiem. BBC news; articulate tidy voices reminiscent of coffee baristas in an airport morning or metallic lobbies of international hotels, there is a soft lounge in the ivory, embroidered couch before heading into a low-lying limousine for learning. In the high saturation-white of the morning, the classroom is empty, only to linger a pale flower fragrance(possibly from m.l’s perfume) and the sweet warbling of the most touching music ever played on the earth, Out of Africa’s Summer Theme. The air is filter and a-laid with pearly shells, consisting with m.l’s smile and bending over for preparation; this is a typical start of a day of learning. In this room, the fever of haiku and acrostic poem was also caught, pulling wide open the lever of treasure chests and swinging door of a secret wardrobe, revealing the most breathtaking scenery reward stretching beyond the line of vision. And the wizardry of the world of written work, a 300-word portion or a 900-word novel lead and paper rubbing dizzying flipping page after page, artisanal crafted and penned by hand.
Note:‘Field’ was first used here, sighted with correct spelling inclining more of a towards ‘moors’ or ‘poppies’, (school fields rectangle cow grass wasn’t within context at that time), and ‘flower’ pompously rhyming with ‘shower’. Into the backyard, it wasn’t as simple as rain water brimming almost poetically into the class, by quality or by its unpredictable instance in class, it was an extension of a life.(13/5/10)”
One should have known what one had just watched this past season.
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