“A Group Apart”
“Yet one subculture on the campus neither got hopped up on lager, pressed bifid asses (like grotesque specimens) against glass, gamboled in fields, parachute string in hand, or capered about the grass armed with liquid missiles. In Skylar’s room, he and his friends exsufflated the stress of finals into climbing, floating, winding wisps; into tendrils and tongues, screws, volutes, and fading waves of white smoke silvered by the May morning sun. If students five stories below the tower celebrated like pub toasters or school children released on their final day of class, the six young people gathered in Skylar’s bedroom savored the day like a bohemian sect gathered to give thanks for beauty. Hebie leaned against the far wall, her arms encircling her knees: still tiny, still pale, still a mystery behind those dark, filamented eyebrows, still the pretty waif of a young man’s fantasy. Beside her, sitting Indian style, was Artus Blavatski, who had stopped by to see his young friend while on his way to New York City. Sitting with his straight athletic back supported by the wall and his muscled legs extending before him, Boone Niwel showed only a suggestion of a smile. Looking like a Pre-Raphaelite androgyne, Bo Volk compressed himself into a corner of the room. He wore a royal blue suede shirt, Sperry topsiders, and his trademark oversized eyeglasses. He exuded his wonted gentleness and drawled out his words in the same way he had always done.” (from “Remembering Eternity”)
