So school starts tomorrow, and we are back to a semester of strolling around, ducking in between corridors looking for empty classrooms to call our own. We’re homebodies and we crave the intimacy of an enclosed space, a table isn’t adequate as our base. We slip into lectures well into the hour; we sleep in the nest of our chatter. We make do with half done work, boast it like an adorable quirk; 5am rolls about and we’re still awake, msn blinking like a trapped firefly, caffeine burning high in our veins, we are twenty in university and we sleep when others wake. Turn on itunes and there’s a song by stars which says it perfect, “it’s hard to remember days, mornings lost in a chronic haze, breath is fast and the trains are slow, barely even feel it though”, soon six weeks are up and midterms are nigh. We congregate in a frenzy with stacks of freshly printed notes, calculate days and tabulate plans like battle strategies, and when all else fails instinct is there like a wife guiding your pencil to shade one of five ovals. The cycle repeats but our energies fade, when tenth week rolls round we are practically dead. We start our countdown and compile lists of what we think will please us when we’re free of tests, we hold them close like prayer books each to-do item a rosary bead. Then everything ends and we forget every item, only regaining our memory at the start of the term, suddenly everything repeats like deja vu, da capo, the carousel of a student’s life as we add another token to the ride.