Updated on July 21st, 2026
(Updated on June 28th, 2026)
-(Updated again on July 17th, 2026)
Jasmine listened intently whenever her teacher Mr. Paul spoke. She listened to the words as if she was anticipating each sound, as if he was gifting her with a treasured walrus tusk, a family heirloom that only she- could fully covet. Jasmine could appreciate the lessons Mr. Paul bestowed upon his learners.
As he gifted her it was also as if each of these utterances contained something she needed. Each sound contained something only she understood; invaluable gems.
She listened…
She sat up, shoulders grew higher as if they lifted her ears to catch more sonorous activity. As though each of these words, all the sounds that fell from his directions were the exact -instructions she needed. This day was the map and he provided a compass to proceed from what was feeling like a difficult dream.
—
It was not merely the words he spoke to her, it was an intention she gave to listening —…
It was as though she was mining for answers.
Jasmine Listened
What he was saying and what leaked out from under-the-salt and pepper laced scruff peaked a quiet voice, words he breathed as he was talking to himself. … this whole ceremonious moment included his handing over of ‘the code’ ….
– —the code; this transfer was going to give her access to the greatest secrets of all time. At least…. She imagined; or…. she hoped.
It was a power Mr. Paul stood with, as if his voice, presence of physical being held the actual power to rescue young, still impressionable, still mostly hopeful Jasmine.
She held viciously to a belief and this deeply held hope that he could somehow change things in her life.. she grasped to believe when she prayed that he, or somebody would rescue her.
She leaned forward and often opened her eyes to signify that his spoken sounds, the orated syllables that drawled from his mouth, these words were often all she needed. They held something that words were void of when most other adults spoke. Most adults represented a world that she was no longer attuned to, that world failed Jasmine.
These points, these were game winning, clutch free throws. These were the words that Jasmine needed ……. Desired, they were…
– treasured assets to be coveted. She was cheering from the stands until Mr. Paul stepped into the class, that instant brought Jasmine onto the court, her pen was the ball which she drew attention with.
Jasmine loved when her teacher Mr. Paul spoke because she saw his speech as the key to what she had been searching for. If nothing else, if no ascertained value was ever gained from what he said, she still believed.
She believed in him, that he was granting her a way, a tool to find a new home, a family, a life that resembled something different from the one she was barely trudging through. This powerful bearded presence was a key to a life that transcended beyond what she was currently experiencing.
Jasmine felt impelled to eagerly focus on this possibility….she looked on with her most eager face, open posture and knew ….
She would…..
she —
–had to listen.
“Jazz…. You’ve got it.”
…
“I know you do …. Write it down, all of it…. Whatever comes, put it on that paper.”
“Jazz, you got it…”, these words continued to play in the jukebox of Jasmine’s headspace, swimming about as she etched into the back end of her tree shaped journal.
Philip Dane 