February 23, 2016

We were in an apartment that had a personal aquarium installed on one side. There was one tank with a curved panel on the outer edge as well oval tank you could walk around that went from the floor to the ceiling. A metal railing traced across the outer panel. The smaller tank had a few subdivisions that housed a variety of turtles.

This apartment was also special because the rooms led into each other in such a way that there was a loop. I shuffled through the house in my indoor slippers; through the display room, the living room, the kitchen, and so on. Someone was following me and kept asking me why I was interested in the things I was learning.

Every time I walked by the aquarium, another turtle escaped its enclosure and attempted to, rather helplessly, travel across the polished limestone floor. At a certain point, the turtles started mating.

The inquisitor kept following right behind me despite my weak attempts to signal my disinterest by continuing to walk in circles. “Do you know why?” they would keep asking. I had gotten rather fed up with their questioning. I finally gave them an answer:

“Don’t you know that we’re made to love things? Not just learn but also love what we learn. Why can’t you just let me do what I want?”