I'm taking time from a busy schedule to write this. It's been a hectic
month, and I need to escape.
But there is no escape, so I settle for this. This is all I have.
A song is playing on the radio: "Wonderwall", by Oasis. It is slow, sad,
and beautiful. It came out during my senior year of high school. I hear
it, and the memory brings tears to my eyes. I realize I'm very overtired;
no, sleep-deprived. I'm not really this emotional.
As I glide through the dining hall, looking for salad, I pass a table of
architects: About a dozen first-year students; I was in their studio last
semester. I know their faces, their personalities. It's charette week;
they're all tired and overworked. They'll return to Slocum en masse when
done with their communal meal.
I gaze at them with respect and awe as I pass. I say nothing. I sit down
at my table, alone, and my eyes periodically glance back at them.
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