Chapel Hill, home of the first public university in the United States, location of the infamous Franklin street and neighbor to the artistic “village” of Carrboro. A college campus bustling with living culture, age old information and a place where nature and man live as one. This is my alma mater and it was within the confides of this town that I learned of the world. I’m a firm believer that everybody should experience college, not for what you’re studying in the classrooms, but the knowledge that you gain as you navigate the different spheres. Here you must balance between social life, service, academics, work and still find time to be yourself which sounds easy in theory, however this can easily become a daunting task if unprepared. It’s been two years since I’ve officially graduated and left, and within those two years I’ve discovered that change is universal…and necessary. Navigating through the real world I have watched myself be stripped down and exposed, only to be refilled with the unexpected; but during this volatile process called change you have to remain stable at times. It was the lessons learned in college that allowed me to remain strong until the end of the process, which hasn’t even come into view yet. But just like me, everything changes and UNC-CH is no different. Students have come and gone, buildings have been renamed due to protests and the small businesses have been remodeled or removed. Despite these factors, there are still countless memories surrounding each location for they are not subject to change. Memories are the snapshots of yesterday, frozen illusions time yet imbuned with living emotion. Allow my pictures to show you the memories left behind at Chapel Hill.

Franklin Street.

Carrboro.

UNC-Chapel Hill.

 

 

 

All trips through nostalgia inevitably end at the beginning of memory. Craige was the residence hall I lived in my freshman year and it was the place where I began to ask questions. The picnic tables out front were a meeting ground for the ecletic and restless. Each night these tables overheard discussions about leftover regrets from parties, the existence of God and nature of dreams or the importance of taking notes in class. Some people quenched their thirst at the Old Well, but others like myself, drank from the waters at The Grotto. It was here where the process of change began for me. 

Chapel Hill, just like each of it’s preceding and current inhabitants is constantly changing. Sometimes for worse, but often for the better. As I end this series I would challenge you to ask yourself how you have changed since the beginning of your journey through life? And then realize that if you stayed the same, you wouldn’t be here now. Remember that change is the essential quality needed to grow.