This language study is a puzzle of words and structures, strung together like beads on a string. Beautiful, foreign beads. We students sit in silly desks, the same sort I sat in during high school. We grown-ups from all over the world try to please our teachers. Follow the rules. Line up for lunch.
Now back in my studio apartment, it is evening. Just me and my thoughts, gentle and vague: the shape of my wine glass, the color of the wine, the smell from the restaurants just outside, the evening sun on the pale orange walls and green shutters. The warm, dark night is approaching. And soon I will have a new morning with new words.