Roam the trance right under the windows of the university. and smoke. The brigade is sitting down who on what, rotting bikes and rotting. I smoke while looking at the audience. It is warm and comfortable. The lecturer draws offogenic formulas. The first lines are carefully copied. Beautiful students secretly knock SMS.
Dreams of how good it is to be there, away from the digging of land and dirty cables.
I look at the child from the back. Who also dreamingly looks at my cuddly workers.