Miss Walsh

A school year at Gloucester County Institute of Technology is more like a tumble. Somehow we muddle through the enormity of each event, emerging from it a little prouder, a little smarter, a little more appreciative. There's apexes tacked onto every month, among these being shows, Thespian Cabarets, and competitions. Anymore I envisage my mind as a scrapbook, with washi tape borders reading an event's name, the center of the page a sprawl of selfies, ticket stubs, and phrases the resound in the aesthetic of those hours.