By: Antonella Masini

We don't ask much from life. We just want to know that we tried our best. That we had everything we could. That we loved what was worth it and that we just lost what was never ours. But this past year brought with it a thousand questions and put a semicolon in our lives, a semicolon that we hope will someday soon tape together our pre covid undergrad lives with the adulthood that is approaching scaringly fast.

 

It is hard to grow up and let things go when you never really had the chance to say goodbye. When you don't even know yet where you will be living in a couple of months. When the world is in an ever-changing mood. Daylight turns to moonlight but we feel the same: alone, empty, unmotivated. We just want to close our eyes and one day wake up, realizing that this past year was just a very bad dream. That our friends are still here. That the world is okay. That no one died since we left. 

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But this graduating generation is way too damaged to think this could be true. We have gone through some dark times, and perhaps someday we will be able to look back and think about the scarce happy memories we managed to make in these past few months. But for now, we just want to hold on to those few things that once made us happy, try to go back to our childhood days and think "everything will be okay". This is what this exhibit is about: remembering, holding on to, forgetting.