My graduating story took place a year ago. I remember marching under the rows and rows of Acacia trees that enclose the southern campus in a way a forgiving father would have embraced a prodigal son. It mirrors an everyday sight, after all we’ve been through this before, and as for how many times we must have walked, held hands, shared laughter under that sweeping canopy – one would never know. Some were familiar faces, who I first met way back during an entrance exam or while awaiting for a turn at the library’s xerox machine.
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