Dear Readers,

hi. When you read this, this semester will be over. x.x 

The last months of the spring semester always feels like an inescapable bender, but not in the usual, run-of-the-mill nightmarish way. No. It feels more like letting go, sitting back, stowing tray tables and one’s consciousness safely in preparation for autopilot. Sometimes it feels nice to be away for a while, out of body, out of mind, out of sight. It’s a season of frolics and meanders for the idyll of it all. Maybe it’s the cumulative sleep deprivation and constant stimulation talking, but now that it’s impossible to recall what I ate for lunch yesterday or plan further than my next dinner, it finally feels like I can live fully in the present.

In Feature, the author reflects on the birthday blues. In Narrative, one writer talks about object im-permanence in the time of climate change through her experience of being a wildfire survivor; another writer reflects on her recent breakup and how it has forced her to learn how to fall in love with herself. In Arts and Culture, one writer discusses Chopin's Nocturne No. 13 and the anguish of chasing the emotion and perfection that Chopin intended to evoke. Another writer talks about how writing provides catharsis, journaling as a form of escapism, and using it as a gateway to embodying emotions and vulnerability. In Lifestyle, our very own Aditi reflects on her four years at Brown, and to her we wearily, tearily, drearily bid goodbye. Word of warning: There are many sentences that have *cue tears* craftily embedded in what I can only comprehend as subliminal messaging.

There’s something about starts and ends. It forces a kind of sobriety that feels like it doesn’t belong to the balm of early summer. But perhaps that’s none of our business just yet. I’m all for crossing bridges when I come to them, or when getting wet isn’t an option. 

This Spring Weekend editor’s note sampled Zoë and Claire’s one from ten years ago when we hosted Kendrick Lamar on 420. (Which, by transitive properties, means that we are at the center of improbabilities, not just witnessing them. Make of that what you will.)