My eyelids felt like sandpaper. I hadn’t slept in two days. Coffee only gets you so far. Sometimes you need a little cold air to keep you going, some frost against the skin to perk you up. Cigarettes come in handy in this instance. I had Sobo glue residue on my fingertips, bits of sawdust filling the fingerprint grooves, and ripped cardboard adhered to my palms. The lights of the studio were always on between August and May. My second-hand smoke was indistinguishable from my breathe in the Buffalo air. I’ve been out here for five minutes, and I’ve seen 17 students and two professors come and go.

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