I hated every moment of every day of public school. Each and every hour lasted an eternity. One of the side products of this journey through block and brick buildings where every movement was timed and orchestrated was my sense of time became totally distorted.

At age nineteen, I spoke with a landlord about renting an apartment. The standard lease was for a year. A year? A whole year? That was an eternity. Who knew if they would be alive in a year? Planning that far in advance seemed ludicrous to me. I lived in a world where only books lasted, and everything else was momentary or temporary.