Sometimes I dream about York. Isn't that a strange thing to dream about? This is the York I dream of, the one where the Common is green and lush and the fountain is dancing in the sunshine and the frisbees fly past your head every minute.
Instead campus is decked out like the North Pole, the temperature has dropped significantly and I am COLD COLD COLD!
So for now I suppose I'll dream about York in the warm sun of fall instead of the York Pole.
I hate winter.
-Laur
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