Junior year is over. I packed my things between midnight and 5am, sat on my bed, and thought.

I asked questions. Why didn’t I start packing earlier? Are those birds chirping outside? What the hell am I doing? Who am I? Who are you? And why did you eat all the pizza in the fridge?

I tried to summarize. This year has been about growth. (I’m still short.) This year has been about learning. (I still don’t go to lecture.) This year has been about eating, drinking, and merriment. Well, at least the last week or so.

Junior year is over, and I’m restless. I’m ready for something else to start. At the end of Disgrace, the main character remembers a line from a poem.

Half inspiration, half admonishment, this is the last line of Ranier Maria Rilke’s “Archaic Torso of Apollo.” Rilke hears this message while looking at a marble statue. In a moment of intense appreciation for beauty, knowledge, or the weight of the past, art becomes a call to action. It’s an unsettling line, a simple but restless line. I like the moment of clarity it captures–the moment of finding, in the passage of a thing into the past, the beginning of something else.