The air is hot and somewhat heavy, but not oppressive. The way the sun beats down is more comforting than anything else. It makes you want to close your eyes and lay spread-eagle in the few patches of green grass that remain. There always seems to be a breeze, brushing along the skin like a lover’s fingertips. The concrete holds in the warmth, clinging unnecessarily to the hundred-degree heat of summer that always seems to hang on well into September. There’s always an air of activity, even in the sweaty heat; students hurry to class yet somehow find time to stop and chat with friends.
The dome of the Academic Building casts relieving shadows over students and the ever-present hoards of visiting high schoolers and their parents. The girls are always overdressed, already eyeing the college boys with undisguised anticipation. The boys try to look indifferent and uninterested, proudly displaying their high school letter and logos on t-shirts, caps, and shorts. The parents always seem to be awed, whether by the campus or the fact that their babies will soon the set loose upon this university and this town and pushed into what their children will think is the “real world.”
The breeze tickles the leaves of the trees, tantalizing and tempting students with the constant desire to skip class. The weekend always lingers on the horizon, arrives with fanfare, and passes far too quickly.
Vers Les Etoiles 