I always think of T.S. Eliot in April, pondering that opening line of *The Wasteland*...is it the unrequited/unfulfilled desire of which he speaks? The existential morass of modern life? The shock of waking up from winter to see the sublimity of life (okay, there I'm hearkening back to the Romantics...). Either way, this year the line echoes the tragedy at VTU yesterday...I found out from one of my students during class, and caught a CNN update on the TV in the lounge of the dorm/classroom wing where I teach. Talk about surreal.
As wise people remind me, tragedy can strike anywhere and one can't be prepared for anything. But there's an eerie feeling when such tragedy strikes in the kind of place you call home. My thoughts are with everyone at VTU as they try to make sense of that which is senseless...
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