Trees. Moss. A big-ass dorm with a penchant for fire alarms.
I don't sleep in here, but sometimes I stay up all night noding or journaling or writing letters studying or aching, and I see the sun come up.
Usually a misnomer as the sun doesn't visit this corner of the world in the winter. The other morning I was surprised: saw green-gold rays stretch across the wet street, various joggers in their patriotic orange and black, some kids crawling into the computer lab in a bleary dead-weak panic.