It’s a space where the garden’s extroversion and the chapel’s introspection harmonize. The garden greets you with a sensory symphony: the vivid colors of lush foliage, the playful dance of light through the grand pyramidal windows, and the gentle cadence of water cascading into the koi pond. The MBA Class of 1959 Chapel, a concrete and copper marvel, houses an unexpected burst of life within its walls: a koi fish garden. In the heart of the Harvard Business School, where future leaders promise to revolutionize how we hoard digital collectibles or optimize our nap schedules, you’ll find a space that’s surprisingly fishy - quite literally. In this stark landscape, where campus green spaces seem just as drained as us, motivation can feel as scarce as the daylight.īut there’s a spot on campus that might just be the antidote to the academic and meteorological blues we’re facing. It doesn’t help that the trees, once lush, stand stripped of their grandeur, while the grass crunches underfoot. We’ve reached the time of the year when our existence feels reduced to a string of deadlines, and we’re left pining for a sliver of sunlight. Now, as Cambridge winds start to feel like personal attacks and the sun decides to clock out by 5 p.m., it’s not just the end-of-semester fatigue that we have to face - it’s seasonal gloom too. But sometime between midterms and group projects, that passion packed up and took a sabbatical, leaving us in a state lovingly referred to as “burnout.” Still, there was definitely a passion at the start of the semester. Remember September when we were all bright-eyed and filled with the kind of enthusiasm that had us promising to do all of our General Education readings and actually show up to section? Yeah, me neither.
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