Here they are: jerky movements, darting gaze. The brightness of the classroom pushes these eyebrows down further. Not one detail is left unexposed; what a delight to a mind waiting to absorb them! Yet what a tedious task to constantly catalogue every particle of information within sensory reach. There’s that chair, never in its place, backing into a broken extension cord, and the half-erased whiteboard, parallel to the teacher’s desk. The poster of ‘oblique prisms.’ ‘Oblique,’ with the same ending as ‘baroque’, the style of music currently being explained. Looking obliquely towards the half-open door I spot my friend’s shoes grazing the floor; obliquely my eyes glimpse Bach on the TV; I predict what my ears will hear now: an eerie organ jolting my classmates into startling lucidity, a state in which I’ve been since dawn. What is this- paranoia? No: alertness- knowing who and where I am, what’s happening, and above all, sensing imbalances in the order of things.