On this gloomy Sunday, we almost see the door to the last week of semester 1. And one might ask: where’d all the time go? As the song says, it’s starting to fly, hands waving goodbye. It feels like we spent a total of 5 months waiting for time to fly, for hands to wave goodbye, for the delicious relief of a Saturday night where only the estranged faces of customers in a bar seem to whisper, “you have a life outside of Sciences Po”.
My life, don’t tell me it’s all in my head. Did we have a life during this first semester? Maybe one of you can remember a good but painful hammered Sunday morning, where alcohol was your fuel for joy. Others wrote articles, worked two jobs, ran clubs and associations, organized events, volunteered in associations. Most of us drowned in microeconomics, dreamed in mathematics, cursed in CompPol, or slept in Espace Mondial.
Or did everything at the same time.
Where is the love? The Black-Eyed Peas never provided an answer in this iconic, TikTok trending anthem. This semester certainly did not draw a map. Some of this campus’ lovely couples might find a certain warmth by studying together -what else is there to do. But where are the raging parties, the drunken smiles, the fog on windows we cannot open because of the neighbors? Where are the drinks at O’Plan B, avoiding the people you know but do not want to see? Where are the smoke breaks with 10 nonsmokers just trying to find an excuse not to work, in a cold Le Havre?
Well, I’ve got dreams to remember. Dreams of not having to work that much, dreams of spending my last year in LH surrounded by the people I love, and the new people I came to love. Dreams of getting so drunk on happiness that vodka would have been mere water. Dreams that I hold on to, when missing a Toga party on my computer seemed like the saddest of nightmares. But don’t worry Le Havre, I still love you anyways.
Breaking the chain of loneliness, perhaps the library stayed the most social place this semester. We even have an Instagram account -and people actually follow it. Well, if we don’t love each other now, we will never love each other again. Fleetwood Mac was surely a troubled, angsty, and disunited group, but coming together, they produced one of the best albums that ever was. We probably sometimes forgot to play our own music, to accord our violons together, to remember we have a shared voice, despite writing endless and mysterious Lagrange multipliers all semester.
Sometimes, it’s called freefall. You might think, fuck this, let gravity win, leave it all behind, because even the Devil needs time alone sometimes. But remember, we care. We shared Diwali, we shared Halloween, we shared endless breaks, stress, laughter, smiles, cups that made us sick for 3 weeks, WEI and WEIS, pictures and songs, lyrics and poetry. We shared a semester, and it was one hell of a bumpy road.
Not to worry, my dear Havrais. Here comes the sun. It always goes down to classics, doesn’t it? Or to second semester… We mustn’t forget all the wonderful people we met, the fleeting but wholesome smiles we gathered, the beautiful music performed, the wonderful events our dear associations fought to design, the conversations which sparkled like hidden gems. We mustn’t overlook that one inspiring drink we had, on a bad night of overwhelming stress, that enlightened our week. An Ottolenghi cookbook. We mustn’t forget how to appreciate that ray of sunshine, still a bit too cold, but glowing on a friend’s laughter. Not to worry, we’ll touch the sky.
So, there you go Sciences Pistes: the perfect final playlist.
Where’d all the time go, My Life (ZHU), Where Is The Love, I’ve got dreams to remember, The Chain, It’s Called Freefall, Ottolenghi (Loyle Carner), Here comes the sun, Touch the Sky (Black Pumas).
A bit nostalgic, a bit sad, a bit hopeful, a bit angsty, a bit loving, a bit happy. In all shades, in all feelings, in a messy way, in English, and in procrastination on a Sunday before exams. Just like our semester.
Maud Niemi
Le Dragon Déchaîné 