krgilbert
Cycling through the mild, warm rain through the rolling hills of Nepal was something he would not soon forget, if ever. He was heading for a factory he had only heard whispers of to obtain a navy blue, striped kashmir sweater - hand woven in the traditional way by the old, wrinkled and battered hands of Nepalese woman.
It was 4:00 am in the middle of his second semester. Spilt coffee, cigarette butts and a lot of crunched up pieces of paper littered his desk. He had been working on a constitution, a policy for a new on-campus organization. He had been working on changing his campus forever.
The sign said he was dangerous. Armed and dangerous. But that didn't concern Bill. Most things didn't. And that's exactly what made him the man with the most infamous reputation in the country.
An hourglass. Vivacious and beautiful yet not intimidating. Perhaps because of how familiar I was with all of the intricate idiosyncrasies and unique, one-of-a-kind imperfections that made her body her own and something that I would always admire.
The incessant 'click-clack' was distracting - but in a good way. The alluring noise reminded me that I was in fact not alone, and the self-alleged image of the model, actress or perhaps only a fellow young student saved me from my study-induced insanity.