| Author: | T Swanepoel | ISBN: | 9781465733115 |
| Publisher: | T Swanepoel | Publication: | August 31, 2011 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords Edition | Language: | English |
| Author: | T Swanepoel |
| ISBN: | 9781465733115 |
| Publisher: | T Swanepoel |
| Publication: | August 31, 2011 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords Edition |
| Language: | English |
Preface
My heart pounded and my ears swooshed. I didn’t like asking questions in class, especially not a full philosophy class, but I had to make sure that I had heard correctly.
“But, Professor, do you really believe it is possible for the sun, a star, to be alive?”
I had to speak up above the buzz of voices from where I sat in the third row. No one was listening. They thought the Professor was just a big fat joke. And his overweight, wobbly appearance made him even more ridiculous, not to mention his bald Bozo-the-clown hairstyle.
He stopped writing on the board and turned towards the class.
“Who asked that question?” The noise level died down a bit. He had never spoken to anyone directly before.
I raised my hand slightly but enough for him to see me. He frowned before answering.
“It is not a question of whether it is alive. It is a question of form.”
The noise level from disinterested students climbed even higher than before.
I nodded and stuck my shaking hands deep into my pockets.
Preface
My heart pounded and my ears swooshed. I didn’t like asking questions in class, especially not a full philosophy class, but I had to make sure that I had heard correctly.
“But, Professor, do you really believe it is possible for the sun, a star, to be alive?”
I had to speak up above the buzz of voices from where I sat in the third row. No one was listening. They thought the Professor was just a big fat joke. And his overweight, wobbly appearance made him even more ridiculous, not to mention his bald Bozo-the-clown hairstyle.
He stopped writing on the board and turned towards the class.
“Who asked that question?” The noise level died down a bit. He had never spoken to anyone directly before.
I raised my hand slightly but enough for him to see me. He frowned before answering.
“It is not a question of whether it is alive. It is a question of form.”
The noise level from disinterested students climbed even higher than before.
I nodded and stuck my shaking hands deep into my pockets.
