April 22nd, 2006

I am walking through the Bazaar. A tight cobblestone street is filled with vendors. Each vendor hawks his goods from a stall covered in pastel linens. The streets are crowded with customers.
...The Bazaar is another face to the Circular River...
As I walk through the Bazaar, the streets narrow. At the tightest point I realize I need to go to class. I have decided to give Sixth grade another try for some reason. My class room is outside in a tiny garden shed with green metal corrugated siding.
"How can that tiny shed fit all us students inside," I wonder.
I go into the tiny shed. Every desk is touching its neighboring desk. There are no aisles to walk through. My classmates are dressed in school uniforms. The teacher does have some space around her desk. Her raven hair is down up in a bun. She leans against the front of her desk, looking at my classmates. I crawl over the desks to get to mine. I now have a choice of Cheerieos or Applejacks for breakfast. The Applejacks come in a larger box, come in two colors, and taste better than Cheerios. I choose the Applejacks. The teacher is waiting for everyone to quiet down before she beings to teach. I notice she has written something on the chalkboard.