She’s
sitting making notes at the seminar, for comfort tucks one foot under her thigh
in a half-lotus. She leans forward or sits straight as the evening proceeds,
absorbing words. Others arch forward in thought, foreheads a march of ideas.
Some slump in habitual L-shaped gloom, await sparkling words to set them
straight. Wheelchair occupant keeps her dignity upright. Others sprawl like
parliamentarians at all-night sittings, napping or brawling where they sit.
Hard-of-hearing is sitting close-to, placid with purpose. The speaker’s not
sitting, his subject a palaeontologist mystic who once contemplated how we
stood too early, and other evolutionary acts.
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