Hey everybody out there,
While it began as mere kindling, crumpled up YDN prints yearning to be graced by some spark, this in-person semester is now roaring with the heat of a George Foreman model GRD6090B. The parties, the bumps into friends, and the walks up Science Hill are all back; the first-years have fallen into their endless cycle of sickness and health as viruses trudge through us. But, as we all know, a raging semester in New England’s crisp, brisk(et) autumn is anything but hot, and, unlike the Foreman Digital Smart Select Family Size Grill, anything but smokeless. Please, reader, allow us to clear your vision from the haze and bustle of this new and uncanny school year. Allow us to do what the Herald does best.
This week, Abigail Sylvor Greenberg, PC ’25 pierces through the crowds of Governor’s Ball to illuminate its gruesome underbelly. While we wish those festival goers well in their stumbling, bumbling, brazen crowd-swimming search for assorted schedule I compounds, Greenberg provides a sobering critique of the party. Daniel Blokh TD’24 reviews the fine tunes of Yale student Sophie Kyle Collins. The songs explore the bounds of space, both in sonic quality and through emotive imagery, while the review pushes the limits of language with its encompassing descriptions.
Let the Herald lead you through the week. Let us be your contact lenses that never showed up in the packaging center. Let us show you the light amidst the chaotic stew of bodies and romance and sweat that dries in the cool fall breeze. We are the way.
Neal, Lauren, and Rashel