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Calabria Is Its Own Animal

The cream colored Fiat 500 zips around the neglected and barren traffic circle, sending dust and dirt into a flurry behind it. A brown, hazy cloud almost imperceptibly rises above the sun-baked pavement; it will eventually resettle. As the car comes to a stop in front of us, I wonder...

Finding a Little Piece of Home on Amtrak

The Amtrak smells of coffee both fresh and stale – Have you noticed that? Hazy footprints of visitors long-since past, mixing with fresh ones from passengers just now boarding. I like it; it’s like a mini Starbucks on each train car. Beats the rotten, old-air smell of the public transportation...

KNOWING: Saber versus Conocer

Last Sunday I went to New York City with a group of fellow students to see a play called Shadowlands. The play was about the true love story of C.S. Lewis, the author of The Chronicles of Narnia, and his wife, Joy Davidman. At the beginning of the play, C.S....

Spilled Tea

I spilled tea on my laptop. I spilled hot tea on my precious, under-$200 laptop because I was too cheap to buy anything else, and I knew that I would break everything anyway. I had expensive glasses. I sat on them. Too many times. And I would just go around...


Providence on Foot

The East Bay Bike Path is a well-beaten trail that hugs, well, the Easy Bay, winding from small Rhode Island town to small Rhode Island town from Providence up to Bristol. There aren’t many people on it, particularly this early in the morning, and the only ones here are the...

Bouquet d’illusions

I am living in a past that was never fully present. The movies have a way of doing that: of so feverishly mixing the real with the imagined, the desired with the ignored and the repressed. I am thinking back to my time at Il Cinema Ritrovato festival in Bologna. I delight...

Why Should a Banker Play Jazz?

“Ah, it must be Elizabeth! Send her up.” Well, I thought, at least he still sounds the same. “The elevator is right down that hall and to the left, miss,” said the kind face behind the counter. I repeated the floor and room number over again in my head. As...


coffee stains on old desks

John D. Rockefeller, Jr. Library–colloquially known as the Rock, or even more colloquially–seen as an amalgamation of discarded poetry written into ancient desks. The largest and most intricate, living, breathing piece of literature on campus. I walk in and immediately make my way to the bottom floor, walking around the...