THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT

From the Editors

Although we’ve had our differences, I’ve come to appreciate the spells of nostalgia induced by the changing of seasons. A Los Angeleno who grew up in a constant and somewhat naive 75 degrees, Providence unfailingly reminds me of the passage of time as fall transitions to winter each year.

However, I’ve learned the past is never really past and collapsing temporality can be felt in the body. Time lingers around location, and a college campus feels especially heavy with it.

I am 21 years of existence walking down Brook Street with a pair of headphones on. A prism of self refracted into a spectrum of color: me at 15 strangely attached to the Virgin Suicides soundtrack playing now, me at 17 with long hair and bright eyes, me at 19 with no hair and tired eyes. Even unborn and future selves join the parade, equally as confused as to what I’m doing here.

DPS stops me, indicating that the the sidewalk is closed for construction. Take your rainbow across the street.