When I was at university I fell in love with my English professor.
He was teaching The Twentieth Century novel, in particular the novels of D.H. Lawrence.
My classes were in the morning and in the afternoon I would lie on my bed in the dorm and read Sons and Lovers, The Rainbow and Women in Love.
My room-mates, who were studying the sciences would pass by and ask me what I was doing.
“Studying,” I would say.
In reality I was dreaming of love. Continue reading