Slender young women with cultivated winter tans walk past me, their foreheads dotted with ashen grey targets, as they walk past and away from me their pants command or entreat me with single words emblazoned across their ass.
On Friday, I give a demonstration to the students on simple relief printing, over enunciating the Japanese words and mentally pen an autobiography in 100 words or less. Entire years compressed into two words, influential portions omitted for the sake of propriety. I attempt to resist my natural inclination to come off as a bit of a wet blanket milquetoast.
