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Goodbye Sharples

It’s about 5 p.m. on a Tuesday in August, and I am sitting in a big, empty, dim room. Medieval-looking chandeliers hang above my head. Stationed around me at a long, rectangular table are other first-year Swarthmore students in my social justice
October 20, 2022

Thank you to the Phoenix

I always crave mozzarella sticks from Essie’s at ten o’clock on Wednesday nights. I’m not sure why mozzarella sticks exactly — maybe it’s because they’re weighty, and I crave them in the hopes they’ll anchor me to the ground. Regardless, I know
April 27, 2017

You may ask yourself, well, how did I get here?

I don’t know how you tear a building down. Maybe it involves explosives, charges shaped in such a way that the whole structure collapses nicely in on itself. Or perhaps it has something to do with wrecking balls and bulldozers. Or could
April 28, 2016

Swarthmore Reflections, Ruth Talbot

I have four clear memories of my first day at Swarthmore — more feelings at this point. The acute humiliation of a cool frat bro helping me carry a literal arms’ worth of tampons from Ben West to my dorm. The panic
May 10, 2015

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