Materials

Contemplate if you will, sitting in a garden, cogitating on the wonder of life and the beauty of flowers, wind, and trees. You marvel at the warm sunshine on your back and breath in the nectar of various rich scents associated with your beautiful surroundings. When all of a sudden a voice shatters the peace and tranquility. It speaks with a monotone, subtle yet persistent cadence. The Voice rattles off terrible names of strange and mythic substances as if it were a wizard conjuring a spell. "Austenite, perlight, Ferite, cementight" It drones. The voice grows stronger your head begins to real and the world begins to collapse around you, and fade in to blackness and despair. Then all at once it hits you like a freight train. You sit up with a jerk and open your eyes only to find you're not sitting in a beautiful garden surrounded by the glory's of nature. You're sitting in a hard chair, staring at strange marks on a white board; you're in materials class.

I want to go back.

(I apologise to all my grammar freak friends who will undoubtedly find some problems with my posts)