Nothing is quieter than a university office during winter break. I can hear my own heart beat between clacks on the keyboard.
Not much is grimmer than a 1970s, brick built state school campus during winter break. Here looks like joy is something that happens somewhere else.
One wall of my office is 25 feet of glass and I perch in my little office box, gazing out at the blowing snow. It blows in a wee baby cyclone, lifting up from the ill-designed courtyard 50 feet below. No matter how vicious the winds across campus, how bitter the air, outside of my windows the puffy snowflakes dance and spin in mad joy.