Between forests and mountains, our campus has a lot to stop and look at.
Gates Annai (she/they) // Literature Editor
JJ Eng (they/them) // Illustrator
After my five years at Capilano, I’m still not used to following the winding stone path between trees to get to my classes, listening to the pattering of rain against the canopy over my head—or better yet, almost nothing, when the soft snowfall has muted the rest of the world. My favourite spot on campus, however, is up the wide pathway from the bus stop, through the double glass doors into the library, and then up the stairs to your immediate left.
At the top of the staircase sits an extra quiet landing that overlooks the deep greenery below, the landing in front of the Birch building, and the pathway to Bosa. A desk and chair have been set up there to allow students to work in relative privacy and quiet. In the darker winter months, when clouds clot the sky and rain regularly showers the city, I find solace in the hush of the stairwell, watching raindrops race each other down the large panes of the window and clusters of students rush between buildings and classes, or back onto the bus.
In a city that’s constantly moving, I feel especially lucky to find these moments of stillness walking through our campus.
