My senior year of college, I wrote an English thesis on F. Scott Fitzgerald’s nonfiction. Probably my favorite part of writing my thesis was that I had a thesis carrel in the library where I could keep books and work on my paper. It was on the top floor in the back corner in a section that few people used, next to a window overlooking the quad, and I thought it was lovely—but I’m someone capable of finding a desk lovely. Continue reading →