Word: beds
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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Adams House: 1. So close to the Yard, you'll roll out of bed and land in class. 2. Adopted dining hall for many Quadlings...
...entitled to at least a couple nights of sulking on your bunk bed when the rest of the proctor group forgets to invite you to watch "Dawson's Creek" with them or your teaching fellow puts you down in section--again. Enjoy the melodrama of these moments. Write a poem or two. If they're good, join the Advocate. If not, go back out into the wild unknown and chart your path...
...distance from the bookcase to the bed should be exactly four paces. I long for the precision of space I know. Now, missing the feel of moving through darkness with confidence, I turn the lights on when I get a midnight urge to wander. Am I afraid of bruising the white walls? Or am I afraid they will bruise me? Before, I could navigate a labyrinth of rooms and corridors in pitch-blackness. I had breathed it in so thoroughly that I had even memorized which wooden floorboards murmured at my step. Silence was easy. That house was comfortable, settled...
This one squeaks with shallow newness, walls too white and paint too fresh. For years, I complained about the rosy glow of my old pink bedroom. Pink wallpaper, pink canopy bed, pink curtains. Six when I picked the hue, I lived with it for 12 years. I quickly tired of it, but never convinced my parents to change it. Now, staring at the plain white walls of my new home, I miss the overwhelming, childish wash of color, remembering how my voice echoed off pinkness in that room. There is something institutional about these walls. Bigger and lighter and emptier...
...distance from the bookcase to the bed should be exactly four paces. I long for the precision of space I know. Now, missing the feel of moving through darkness with confidence, I turn the lights on when I get a midnight urge to wander. Am I afraid of bruising the white walls? Or am I afraid they will bruise me? Before, I could navigate a labyrinth of rooms and corridors in pitch-blackness. I had breathed it in so thoroughly that I had even memorized which wooden floorboards murmured at my step. Silence was easy. That house was comfortable, settled...