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There I was walking that long path to the university yet again. I knew every crack in the side walk. I knew where the weeds had finally broken free and where the deep puddles would collect after a hard rain. I could gauge how late I was to class based on the faces I met scrambling along the way. Guys and gals who drank way too much the night before drug their inanimate bodies to their 7:45 classes. The skaters, which was still a thing then, weaved in and out of the crowd, I had to fake left and fake right to escape them. Every day I would walk that path to those lofty red brick buildings almost floating, sometimes skipping and always with a smile plastered on my face. Rushing for final exams, my homework may or may not have been done, a guy running to class spills his coffee on me, but none of it altered the feeling of elation that seemed to be my cocoon.