Indian Ameri

Broken pieces of glass near my eyes when I wake up from the floor, the creeking door, the ever dirty stairi, the dusty mat, the ever inspiring balcony from which I notice the sunrise, the rusty exercise cycle, the fruloops that hang in the shade, the ever majestic tricolor, the morning commuters held up in traffic, the blaring UG's in their parties, of course the bikini neighbors, the jogging beauties, the ogling old man, the ever entertaining dog trainers, the dry paint breaking roof, the lazyboy which always was a treasure chest from which I got more secrets out, the cluttering cieling fan, the piled up closet, the ghostly back door, the basket ball trash, the golfy community trash bin, the empty fireplace, the bassy hall, the music trembling room mate bedroom, the walk beside the creech, the ever waving kids, the ever smiling chinese kiddo, the wellwishing creech teachers, the fat thermometer lady at the parking entrance, the jumpy grassfields, the beautiful fall colored columbia road, the gargantuan library side view, Big Ben, the modestly silent coopers one way sign, the giggly girls of the sororities, the memorable BSU, ofcourse the anchor which gave me the first scolding from an american citizen, the University presidents crossing, his wonderful garden, the sputtering water fountains, the road through the Chemistry dept, the slopy Funkhouser parking lot on which I rode my cycle without using my hands, the goodmorning Sam at the parking entrance, the 6 step robotics building which I always like to jump in one attempt after checking whether theres none to watch me do the crazy trick, the steps of Columbia which I always hate to walk with my bike on my shoulders, and of course loads of memories and happiness - I am going to miss everything once I move out of 453 Woodland Avenue to a new place.

My finest and the hardest moments in life has been in a time when I lived in 453 Woodland Avenue. I am proud to be a Woodlander...