Trees.
Moss. A
big-ass dorm with a penchant for
fire alarms.
I don't sleep in here, but sometimes I stay up all night
noding or
journaling or
writing letters studying or
aching, and I see the
sun come up.
Usually a
misnomer as the sun doesn't visit this
corner of the world in the
winter.
The other morning I was surprised: saw green-gold rays stretch across the wet street, various
joggers in their
patriotic orange and black, some kids crawling into the
computer lab in a
bleary dead-weak panic.