Standing outside Kent Hall of my alma mater, Columbia University, looking south, a
month ago now, I snapped a picture of this coed balancing herself as she made
her way across one of those flimsy construction barriers. At the time, on a balmy day
when, just a little to our west, the student body was celebrating something
called “Bacchanal” on the steps of Low Library, she epitomized the word “carefree.”
Now, with finals about to start—and, presumably, after hours in the library—if
this scene were to be repeated, I would say that she—the entire campus, really—is
on the tightrope before the end of the semester.
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