Have you ever wondered if the inside of backpacks have a world of their own? Calm, lifeless and rather dumb from outside, the backpack’s inside is a battlefield with intense rivalries. Things churn, and the things that one needs the least always turns up right at the top while the ones you need the most are gradually pushed and shoved by the rest to the bottom. So whenever I fumble through my backpack, by some miracle the nasty used underwear invariably turns up first. Then comes up all the tons of books that I carried along for no reason because there was no way I would be finishing even half of those even if I kept reading non-stop for the next three weeks, skipping sleep. So every time I open my backpack, I have to send these eager front benchers back to the bottom. But I know that once I zip it up, intense negotiations will begin inside, invisible arms and legs will nudge past each other and the used underwear will creep right up.
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