/lit/ - Literature

>>23380785
I have written some paragraphs about a profesor who is discontent with his life and especially with the spirit of mediocrity governing the academic life.
>The chalk traced a curved line on the dark expanse that filled his vision. It got to the end of the line and it was now time for him to turn around, which he did, but not before taking a short pause, staring at the blackness before him all the while leaning on his writing hand, leaving a pronounced dot marking the spot where the wood supported his weight via the chalk.

>Some faces staring, some switching back and forth between looking at their notebooks and the blackboard. How funny would be for them to accidentally synchronize. For some reason, he felt that this could somehow serve as grounds for ending the lecture prematurely. No, he was sure that if a large enough number of heads would be to spontaneously go in phase he would have the right to not give a lecture for at least a week, appealing to the cosmic importance of such a divine emergence of order. The heads however, refused to violate the sacred monotonicity of entropy, and like all the other things in his life, expressing their total disregard for his unspoken wishes, a habit he found to be most inconvenient.

>Then there were the horrors in the office. His office hours served as a kind of involuntary trip through the inner reaches of human mediocrity, the students putting a hood over his face, abducting him to an midly ugly town, perfectly unremarkable, where he was forced to sit in the middle of a square not too dirty, not too clean and observe the scene. Then it was the town over and the other one, all the while the abductor's train whistle sang a hymn of ambivalence for its lone passanger. The familiqri56 is qhat bother him the most. He could pr9bqbly withstand the casual violence of forced exchange but the ease with which he recognized himself sitting across his desk in front of him, the patterns of mediocrity all to clear to miss, stretching like endless fractals, branching outwards just to fuse into themselves , covering the walls of this shrine. Ever-present, the object of worship of this temple, the lifeblood of this institute keepping the machine running was no problem for those who did not perceive it, but it suffocated those who did.

>natural law is LE real!!!