Squares: A Day-Trip to Davis

There is something to be said for the theory, stated with confidence to me one snowy September day my freshman year, that there is no legitimate reason to justify ever leaving the beautiful womb that is Harvard Square. All manner of sustenance and enjoyment lie within the confines of Brattle and Bow streets. All else, naught but a quintessence of dust. Or shadows and dust. Whichever is Shakespeare. That point, hidden though it may be, was that of my foolhardy advisor, who shall remain unnamed (he lives on the first floor of old Leverett; his fears include spiders, pollution, and …






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