A Terrier Tuesday

The wind caresses the slightly overgrown grass as it sweeps the park and passes an explosive statue of metal that glints like steel, massive in size and vertically situated. This is Boston — Boston University. Birds fill the air with chirps two, three, four — only to be dulled by the roar of the morning rush hour. The sun gleams from between the thickets of swaying olive-hued leaves that sprout from one tree, two, three, four. The students lay under the sunshine, eyes closed as they bask in its miraculous warmth — notebooks thrown aside and schoolbooks stuffed in bags slid under the base of their necks as makeshift pillows. The air is laced with summer’s lingering humidity, but the ambiance resides between ease and comfort that everyone soaks up like Kool-Aid. A trio listens as a lengthy novel is read aloud by the enthusiastic soprano voice of a woman with folded knees against the weathered trunk of a tree.

To the right, noise emits from the speeding automobiles. The cycle does not end: vehicle after vehicle zips by, crafted of steel, iron, oil, and exhaust that sweep past Commonwealth Avenue’s hard black roads, beating down with crushing rubber. Dashing down to the Questrom School of Business, there is the swish of doors opening and closing shut, laughter heard from a phone call barely audible a couple hundred feet away, readily contributing to that complacent forum of noise. From the blinking monitors by Warren Towers that beep countdown signals in white and red to the train tracks that vibrate against speeding machinery uniquely placed between parallel roads of traffic, past the law school on the T, the lights inside the library radiate against the worn weathered panels of smooth tile that consume the floor, the various bulbs of circular smooth glass glowing warmly — reaching every corner. Each student holds a story, but all join in the area to share the cool escape this haven provides from the frequently searing sun beyond the glass doors.

Every minute detail is a necessary portion of this Tuesday, at this university, in the heart of Boston. It’s the most beautiful here in the summer, the Bostonians will tell you, where every day is lazy and lovely, where the days never end, where streetlights twinkle in amber fluorescence, and the city doesn’t sleep until you do.

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