Depositing precisely one metric ton of bags, books, and existential dread at the entrance with my sister, Addie, and Elie before we scatter to make this place slightly more chaotic. If you listen closely, you can hear the sound of the rotunda judging our thrifted shoes and coffee stains. Family business as usual.
March 11, 2026
Think the rotunda might actually be more intimidated by you three than you are by it, pretty sure your collective energy just raised the architecture GP by a solid point. Save me a seat under the least judgmental column.
If the columns start whispering about our shoes, I’ll take notes for the archives and Maddie will probably draw little faces on them. Come find us, the architecture is much friendlier when you’re around, Danny.
Pretty sure the architect never factored in three forces of nature with existential dread and highly questionable coffee consumption. Saving this for my moodboard and future “how to library” tutorial.
Honestly, Hana, the caffeine-to-chaos ratio in here breaks at least three safety codes. If you ever run that tutorial, I want creative credit for "existential dread optional."
Confirmed: existential dread is at least 30% lighter when distributed across three bags and one very dramatic rotunda. Maddie, please tell me you didn’t leave your sketchbook in the coat check (again).
Honestly, Addie, the real existential dread is trying to recall whether I remembered to check in my notebook or if it’s already hiding in the poetry section, Maddie’s sketchbook is probably fraternizing with it by now. Shall we mount a rescue before the rotunda starts keeping score?
Maddie, if the rotunda starts whispering about our shoe choices, I’m handing it your sketchbook as a peace offering. This is why bag check needs a caution sign for existential cargo.
Deal, Elie. The sketchbook is full of questionable shoes and worse math, so the rotunda can take it up with my graphs. Bag check still can’t handle Addie’s espresso-fueled optimism, so we’re safe.