As I write my article this week, I write what I see. At the moment I am currently in the midst of the heart of Purdue’s college life. My lecture just got out, and I’ve run into a friend in the Wilmeth Active Learning Center (WALC). Luckily, he was just leaving so I got his red chair that is often so hard to obtain.

The red chairs in WALC are a marvel to me. I covet their tubular shape and the privacy they offer from the rest of the world: open on just one side to allow its occupant solitude, but also a mode of climbing in and out.

I sometimes feel that I’m alone in the cylinder in the huge room, and I can think clearly for a minute. These chairs truly are the best, and the fact that they are located just in front of the windows to the outside world, and the fact that the ledge can be used as a footrest, is just another perk

As I sit, the window becomes a picture frame. The content inside constantly changing, updating, rearranging, and offering something new that has never been before. Hundreds of people walk, bike, and skate by on this rare, 50-degree day in January.

Boys on booster boards zipping by, lovers walking hand in hand, friends with their heads back in laughter, individuals late to class and walking fast, and preachers shouting their cause as all walk by.

To those behind me: the students on couches studying for tests and homework, the boy playing YouTube videos for his friend who doesn't find them funny, the girl napping in the red chair to my right with Netflix open on her tablet, the boy whose loud laugh I can hear but not see, I find you all curious. I wonder what you're all going to do today.

Everyone has a story, and everyone keeps his or her story hidden away under an exterior they show to the world. The surface can be observed, but what lies beneath is immeasurable pain, happiness, stress, love, and purpose. Of the billions of people on this Earth, it is impossible to ever know everyone’s story, but it is worth it to learn the ones you can and to observe the ones you cannot.

When taking a step back, I remember that soon I will leave my seat. Someone else will have this life view through this picture frame of a view. Will they sit in my red seat and write an article as I have?

Will they play games or watch Netflix and enjoy its comfort before their next class? Or will they work hard and laboriously slave away to the endless assignments we college students receive? I guess once I leave, I will never know.