Welcome to Princeton: campus of a million arches. There are triumphal arches, Roman arches, quaint little arches, arches within arches, arches on top of arches, arches that don't lead anywhere.
The arch-arch, if you will, punches through Blair Hall and exposes the north quad to hordes of barbarian freshman streaming from the south. Inside the arch hangs an enormous lantern that could do double-duty on the back of a pirate ship. The arch is dedicated to a gentleman named Jackson, who, I presume, was Princeton alum killed in a tragic arch-related accident.
Why the arches? Could be a case of shoddy planning. After the campus was built, the architects looked around and realized, "Crap, we forgot to make the quads accessible! There's no way in or out!" So they grabbed some pick-axes and presto, the next day there was an inexplicable arch outbreak.
Or maybe the arches have a deeper meaning. Perhaps they symbolize that, in crossing through the campus, we also cross through ourselves, passing ever deeper into a series of archways until we at last rediscover the truths lying dormant in our soul.
Nah. I like the first explanation better.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment