“You walked four flights to take a selfie with a door placard?”
My dad wasn’t impressed by Louise Gluck’s office in Linsly-Chittenden Hall. But when I visited Yale this past August, it was my first stop. Gluck, one of my favorite poets, represents Yale’s spirit as a community for language-lovers and artists.
At Yale, I see myself exploring truth in writing seminars and debating Sappho over Trumbull College ice cream. I see myself not only joining the Yale Literary Magazine, but researching at the CLAY (Computational Literature at Yale) Lab. On campus, I’d write poetry about circuits and design robots to create haiku. To me, Yale is more than just amazing classes. It’s a chance to spend my next four years at a storytelling epicenter.
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