By Greg Vogt: They always tell you that making a good first impression means everything, but if there is one thing I have learned since moving to Boston, it’s that first impressions often mean nothing. I’ll be the first to admit that I have made many wrong assumptions about the majority of people I have met. But of all the people I’ve misjudged through the years, Louie is the one who really taught me this lesson.
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Someone to Sing To
By Kelsey Worley: It was a gloomy, quiet morning in Harvard Square, and as I waited for Felix’s Shoe Repair to open, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me. I looked around, searching for a pair of eyes that might meet mine, but found nothing. I laughed at myself as I sat down on a hard stone bench and thought, “You’ve got to stop doing this.” I had hoped that by my second semester I’d be less afraid of the city.
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The Bare Bones of Bare All
By Scott Nanos: It's three fifteen in the afternoon when I arrive at the photographer's studio. The entire apartment is one large room. All four walls consist only of brick and black cavities where brick once existed. A lonesome, feeble wood column reluctantly holds up the entire ceiling. It moans in agony as I pace the room, threatening a collapse. The door latch clicks shut with an irreversible finality. I'm trapped.
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