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OLGUÍN | The Places We’re In, The Places We Go

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I’ve recently started to dislike the spaces I have loved in the past. The spaces that were my home during the early mornings of trying to catch up on work and the long nights of racing against a deadline. Now, simply walking into the areas I once loved gives me a feeling of such palpable out-of-placeness. These spaces feel novel to me now. I remember the amount of lively people that occupied a bustling Klarman on a busy weekday, and while that’s returned in our in-person year, I now feel like I don’t know the space anymore. 

It’s filled with the unfamiliar faces of two years of undergraduate students I never had the privilege or chance to meet in passing or an in-person class.

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RUSSELL | Hippies of Klarman

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I remember the first time I saw it: I was a few steps outside my townhouse, clamoring for something spontaneous to do when, as a godsend in response to my boredom, a girl I vaguely recognized invited me to join her and her friends in a trek to the forbidden lands of a new construction site on Cornell’s campus. Under the protective veil of a late Thursday night, we slipped into the bottom floor of what would soon be my home away from home: Klarman Hall. Back then, it was just stone and sawdust. Now, Klarman is the place where I do most of my work. Whether I’m lucky enough to earn my own chair or condemned to a spot on the floor, I usually find my way to somewhere in the building after my classes during the week.