Maybe this is not the time. Suddenly it is breaking with him. Suddenly. Mr.Enthusiam never says no, but this time, he affirms that he, sensing a surge of unknown "slowness", loses all the drive to power himself, to urge himself to stand in front of his audiences. His audiences are all in their late teens. Late teens means a tug of war: between vitality and mortality. Vitality, that’s what youth radiates. Mortality, that’s what life comes to. They guffaw and giggle when Mr.Enthusiasm speaks. Their faces innocent, their voices energetic. This time Mr.Enthusiasm feels no enthusiasm, only emptiness. Here he is standing, right on the podium, a chalk in his right hand. Facing these teenagers, for him, used to be something more than happiness and satisfaction can speak for. This time the air smells different. He can hardly pen what has struck him. He embodies a walking mummy, announcing his own career death to a class of dynamic youngsters.
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