Nothing much in her bags that was not previously found in other bags. From my window, I can see her, walking fast with her many bags, intense looking, focused, full of papers that would never say anything new. No innovative discoveries, no breaking new grounds in her field, no ideas to be remembered as original. Lots of bags make look her busy, committed to the institution, sounding principled while repeating the words of others; never having her own to bring her field to new heights while she pass by my window in the Heights. Fast she walks, full of bags, the new bag lady of academia. She must get there, somewhere, sound professional, titled, entitled to repeat what others has said while carrying her many bags down the street in the Heights.
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