Midday was right around the corner, and there we were, at the place where entry wasn't allowed unless you said good morning. The teacher collected us in the three small benches around her chair, where she probably began reading a fairy tale. Perhaps I'd be more certain of that, hadn't I had other things to mind at that time. Storytelling had to stand second in line before my usual daydreaming, which started becoming a spiritual tradition. As always, the tiniest wind current sweeping away leaves outside the window, or even the view of a perfect sun ray washing an unimportant object felt meaningful and beautiful to me. Our teacher was making the kids indulge in a fantasy written in paper but I could always make plenty of my own dreams to indulge in. And both of those clouds were suddenly disturbed, when some kid decided to be a clown, causing noise. He stood up and screamed for no reason. Then he sat back down trying to hide his laughter. Attention he wanted, and attention he got. The teacher got angry but desperately tried to look past it as she continued her reading. Other kids would do such things all the time while I was really calm, especially then. But somehow, absurdity awakening at random, I felt safe to step out of my usual self. I stood up and yelled too, eyes all over me, breaking my record for most rebellious act yet. "I didn't expect that from you", the teacher said with a genuinely shocked countenance. The girl next to me pulled me back down and told me to relax. "Stop and focus there", she whispered. She looked amazed, with her glistening eyes fixated upwards as if she was communicating with some magnificent angel. My eyes followed the spot she pointed towards. At first glance, I simply noticed many straight strings close to the ceiling. Some were probably electric wires and others were black cords decorated with drawings. She spoke again, right when I was about to look back at her with confusion. "Over there, look closely. Focus on that red thread", she went on. "Oh I see it!". A tiny red thread among many more, less thin stretched little ropes. I wondered what its purpose was. I had a feeling nobody had seen it before. It felt like her discovery, which she shared with me. But even then, when we brought attention to it, it seemed just as invisible as always. Right then, it appeared just as invisible as us. Nobody cared to participate in what we were staring at. Not even the teacher. They had their own story to concentrate on, and perhaps we had just started writing ours.
