were the exact words of my Facebook status last March 1, 2012, twenty-six minutes after seven in the evening.
To exercise your imagination, let me delineate the scene. My brown sling bag, where my wallet and pens were, was sandwiched between us. Lyndon had a backpack bag inside of which his books, memory aids, and photocopied cases were kept. My right hand was burdened by my book, my left by my cellular phone. Thirty minutes before I posted my status, we were standing side by side, talking to each other about this school year's QPI (It is the total average we need to maintain in Law school per year). The street was busy, noisy, and crowded. From across the street you would see a crooked line composed of numerous students, to which we belong, and bystanders, both group waiting for the street to clear and cross it.
To exercise your imagination, let me delineate the scene. My brown sling bag, where my wallet and pens were, was sandwiched between us. Lyndon had a backpack bag inside of which his books, memory aids, and photocopied cases were kept. My right hand was burdened by my book, my left by my cellular phone. Thirty minutes before I posted my status, we were standing side by side, talking to each other about this school year's QPI (It is the total average we need to maintain in Law school per year). The street was busy, noisy, and crowded. From across the street you would see a crooked line composed of numerous students, to which we belong, and bystanders, both group waiting for the street to clear and cross it.
