Have you ever really listened to campus at night? If I could tug its sounds down from the Polk Place air, I bet I could show you why I do.
In the past four years, whenever I have felt the nagging of a useless negativity in the evening — be it about grades or politics or any other thing — I leave the library I’m probably slouching in and head to the empty quad.
I wander past old Playmakers theater or those weird UL benches to sit on one of its two imperial ends: at South Building or on the jagged steps of Wilson. Both facing each other, both facing the empty space between the buildings where I took classes a few hours before.
That empty space takes a kind of purplish tinge late at night.
And when I breathe in that special brand of quad air, somehow lifted of petty concerns or anxieties, I remember how wildly blessed I am to study good governance at the oldest public university in the Republic. And to live alongside such compassionate people.