. . . .
There were so many benefits to being an art history major.
One semester, my Mondays and Wednesdays were something like:
Late 19th Century European Painting 11-12:45
Minorities in Early American Art 1-2:15
Get a Bagel Before I Die 2:15-2:30
Age of Giants: Leonardo & Michelangelo 2:30-3:45
Friends of Art Bookshop, inside the fine arts building, sold bagels: egg, pretzel, spinach, everyseed, honeywheat, etc. The only two kinds of their schmears I cared about were cinnamon sugar and honey almond. These things could return sweet life to me after grueling but brilliant lectures.
While there, I always perused their trinkets, art books, and oh dear goodness is that stationary? And it's so beautiful.
I never knew til then how sending a letter was the closest thing to appearing on their front porch. There's something so personal about handwriting their names and seeking out their address. It's like hearing a friend say your name.
|I corresponded with a friend studying in Spain via snail mail.|
Swimming with Dolphins 1-3
. . . .