I’ve found a new favorite spot on campus: the grass in front of Griffin, facing WCMA. It’s not a study spot, or a place to meet friends; it’s a place where I can just be. I found it a couple of days ago when I was early to a 7pm class, and the light over the mountains was so beautiful I couldn’t go inside to wait for class to start. Instead, I just sat there in the grass and took in the rhythm of campus. From here I can see the sky changing over West; a perfectly framed picture of the mountains past the football field through the space between WCMA and Fay; students and professors and dog-walkers scurrying along the sidewalks; the bustle of Route 2; the WCMA eyes. I’ve come to see the eyes differently this year. Last year they felt unnerving, like spectators placed in the middle of everything to keep us under their watchful gaze. But for some reason, the once-menacing jets of light now seem like a beacon in the night, and the seats are remarkably soft for cold stone. From my spot in the grass, gazing back at the eyes and all the life going on around them, I feel like I’m watching campus breathe.