As I peeked at the dreamy, descending sun through the gated window at the top of the looming clock tower at UC Berkeley, the sun peeked at me through its own cover, of light misty clouds. It stretched across the land from the edges of every mountain, every waving tree, to the tips of every brilliantly designed building, casting a shadow upon the hidden dark places beyond my eye’s horizon, kind of like Simba’s beloved kingdom in Lion King.
I watched the sunlight float around, searching for its next victim, and when it settled upon my welcoming face, I breathed in the beauty of it all; the chill, refreshing air, the spectacular land that spread out before me, and the nostalgia for the time not so long ago, where I walked daily on the campus grounds below me. I remembered the familiar contradiction between the busy drone of students rushing to classes, and the peaceful hum of equally rushing creek waters, and leaves rustling in the air. I remembered the sense of belonging, that sense of being a part of something so powerful like knowledge. I remembered the way the bells would chime delicately at every hour, sending a signal of vivacity rushing through me. As I stood on the top of the clock tower, one and a half years later, at the campus I so deeply connected to; at a different place, with a different purpose, and a different perspective, the bells pealed again, and I looked around for the last time, smiling at the world I once called my own.