Here is my class assignment from Monday when we were fortunate enough to spend class outside in the beautiful weather. Seems pretty hokey to me, but it is all I have for now.
The black madonna struts with an air of authority across the intersection of concrete walkways checkered with grassy knolls that are populated by students grateful to be in the sunlight. Clutched in her powerful hands is a paper( a lengthy research one probably). I imagine the paper to be about the social constructs of modern black women in a university setting of an urban area (that is something to the effect of what we talked about the one and only time we met).
Her stern countenance oozes with a concoction of hubris and fear. She is set on changing the world, her lot in life, and the lot of the people she loves. The presentation I am sure she is about to give is the first, of many, steps for her. I can see the words of some long gone relative, her grandmother maybe, bouncing across her mind along with the outline and finer details of her speech. Those last words from Mawmaw so many years ago are imprinted on her psyche. The wound has healed, but there is power in pain. As she reaches the threshold of the building, she pauses for just a moment and her hand rests on the handle of the door. The moment was so brief that I could not make a guess at her thoughts. She simply continued moving forward.
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