Shining is not a crime
End of term. The hallway smells of marker and photocopies; on the bulletin board, many starred notes. She walks noiselessly
Not without respect
It’s the first weeks of school. Everything smells like new books and wet sweatshirts. Matthew enters the school in clean
I’m not “aspirine”
Afternoons two weeks in a row become long. The bedroom door is closed and the pillow gets wetter and wetter. In high school
Maria, not Maria-Gulia
In the kindergarten classroom, everything smells of crayons and tempera crayons, and on the wall there are hangers with big names on them. At recess, the chanting sounds everywhere, but Maria’s has been different for the past two weeks.
On the skin forever
At the change of class, I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror under the white light. The hallway smelled of cologne and wet paper
Two sides and a new one
It’s the first weeks of school. The classroom smells of marker and freshly lined books. After a discussion, the desks look
Home Schooling
It was a bright morning. On the kitchen table, notebooks lay open next to a mug that was still steaming. The pace of study was set
Small and blurry
It was the sixth grade classroom. The lights were cold and it smelled of fresh chalk.