Everything here is so empty. My room is empty, save for boxes of things, which should never be taken to represent the things that they contain. Even downstairs, the bike racks are empty because people have already started taking things home. When the place where you live becomes who you are, or what you are, then the emptyness of the place makes you empty. If were to live here over the summer, would I continue to be empty? Thankfully, this week will be empty but then upon my return to Texas I am sure that I will be quite full again. Full with friends, school, work, family, etc. (not to mention food; I can't wait to cook again.) So it must be put upon us to fill up our place, and in turn fill up our lives. Perhaps the search for love is a way of filling up our lives. A room can never be empty when there is someone else standing in it.