lecturer repeat at length what I had already read in the book we were assigned to have studied before the lecture (Why do they do that?). And I guess my hand was moving, so I guess I was sketching and then I looked down into my notebook and there he was. I was surprised. For the past months all the sketches sprung from my own imagination had been of women. Versions of me I guess. And now there was this thin-haired man in a suit. He was accompanied by a story. Nothing
spectacular. Just about going to work. Spending time in front of the mirror at home to carefully choose what to wear. To look smart. To look like he belongs. The expensive suit crisp and new, smelling fresh and unused. Going to work. And realizing the suit is of the wrong colour. The amused excluding glances from his colleagues. It should have been granite, not navy.