There’s something both grounding and invigorating about walking the grounds of Washington University in St. Louis. The campus feels like a conversation between eras — a quiet dialogue where old stone towers whisper to sleek modern glass. I didn’t make it inside the Kemper Art Museum, but I didn’t need to; the campus itself felt like a work of art, a masterclass in blending past and present.
Brookings Hall stood like a sentinel, its Gothic arches and ivy-covered walls speaking to a deeper history — a kind of academic gravitas that feels timeless. Yet not far away, newer buildings rose with clean lines and confident glass, their transparent facades reflecting the sky and campus around them. The contrast didn’t jar; instead, it felt natural, like two generations of scholars shaking hands.
Washington University feels like a place anchored in tradition yet propelled forward by momentum. The old stones seemed to sink their roots deep into the earth, a firm foundation from which new ideas could reach upward. Students passed by, some moving quickly — earbuds in, shoulders hunched against the wind — while others strolled as if each step was an act of defiance against the rush. I watched them and wondered which ones had found their path already and which were still circling the map.
I couldn’t help but think that Wash U’s greatest strength lies in this duality — a place where the past isn’t merely preserved but remains part of the conversation. A place where ambition races forward without losing sight of its foundation. It’s a rare thing, this balance between roots and wings — but Wash U carries it well.