Eight Again, OR My School As a Snowglobe

Blair Hall, Princeton, October 2011.

Being in London is amazing, of course — I’d be wrong to deny it — but this place right here? This place? I miss this place so much that it physically hurts.

Little Hall, Princeton, October 2011.

Last fall it suddenly snowed through a single night, and just like that, we all woke up to see all of campus under a blanket of white, even though October hadn’t ended yet.

Fallen parts of a tree outside Edwards Hall, Princeton, October 2011.

This kind of magic happens on campus all the time. One day when you’re least expecting to be amazed by anything, you walk outside — no one’s there, everything’s quiet, everything’s suddenly different and beautiful, and you’re eight years old again.

– – – – –

I’m going through last year’s photos of campus with “Miss Atomic Bomb” by The Killers on repeat, giving my helpless nostalgia an absolutely, painfully gorgeous soundtrack. Why do I do this to myself? Why.

“You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone.

You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone.”

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