Ironies (or everything is linked)
I noticed the pale and wonderfully kissable back of her neck before I noticed what she was reading, with great attention (and taking careful notes), on the screen of her computer: Ecclesiastes. I probably smiled sarcastically; there I was, lusting about her desireful neck, unshamefully displayed by the short hair falling beneath her ears—chestnut, bright and perfectly straight—and she's reading Ecclesiastes, on a computer screen. I thought it was rather ironic, but later I sought the Book and I found out it was much more ironic than I had first thought. What a world; for a brief moment it occurred to me that reading the Bible on the Internet is almost like reading, I don't know, Miller in a church, but it soon occurred to me that that lovely twenty-year-old wearing delicate glasses would have considered this phrase an unspeakable heresy—though I suppose she never read Miller, and probably hasn't even heard of him. The wolf within me wanted to tell her that she was extremely cute and that her white-linen blouse—so thin that I felt that touching it with my hands might dissolve it—was better on her than on anybody else, but the sheep within me decided that it wasn't very wise (or fruitful) to hit on a twenty-year-old reading the Bible. Ignoring some flashes produced by the most deranged parts of my brain, I walked out of the library. My head was already composing this story and it occurred to me, “she will never read it, or even know that she inspired it.” She and almost every other person whose impression travels the twisted paths of my brain to fall into the obsessive cells that make me write.
And I'm whistling that song by The Birds.