Picture this: I'm in Morisset Library, where I have temporarily moved in. I'm on the Second Floor so I am in easy distance of my new best friend, the library fines lady, and Second Cup and its brownies are just seconds away. I'm not in my favourite seat, but it's ok, because I've spread my stuff out in such a way that it sends a strong signal along the lines of, you can sit in one of the three other seats around this desk, but if you do, I will rip off both your arms and beat you with them. I digress. I'm studying hard on Kateri Tekakwitha, when I turn the page in one of the books to find this chapter:
It's either an essay on a native woman who married a French fur trader; or an erotic novel referencing either lesbianism, bestiality or both. I think it's the latter.
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