I heave a great breath. Not quite a sigh, or, at least, by know means a great sigh, but a great breath still. Scav Weekend closes. It is Sunday night at 11:39 in a college dormitory, and it is silent. Silent save the contented breathing of the several Snitchcokians either asleep or, like me, contemplatively basking in the glory of a day to
(
Read more... )