For almost two weeks, Boston has been bathed in mist, drizzle, and gray skies. Good for the grass, tough on the spirit. Students are less likely now to imagine summer and to struggle in their desk chairs, but the persistent gray is taking a toll on more then just summer eagerness. In order to remain content, ponderous, and awake, I conjure up memories of Paris. March in the city of lights had two choices for its visitors: glorious blue skies and warm weather or mist and gray. These choices were evenly split. The cobbled streets, winding paths, and immaculate facades that harkened back to periods gone by were uplifting in either of these dressings. Paris wore its gloom well. The becoming shade easily reflected in the cities intellectuals, performers, models, and the casual passerby.
