Chapter 29: Great Love

The architecture of the NYU Bobst library always had me starry-eyed and in awe. The way the glass building let in all that light to flirt with the aisles and aisles of books made the place feel like a modern-day romantic hideout – to me at least. In the eyes of a nineteen-year-old who had just lost what she thought was her great love, any scene can provide the perfect backdrop for some romance with a little theatricality. 

I had a wild imagination as it is.

Emily Dickenson had a way of capturing my feelings of being the self-made outcast to the letter. If there were a person I would like to meet for drinks to discuss poetry and literature with, it would without a doubt be her. More so than anything about her life, I would like to know who her great love was. If you read between the lines in her poems, you could almost visualize the person she could've been in love with.