playgrounds, tennis courts, an elementary school. It’s an idyllic town, protected from the world outside, perhaps not too different from the thousands of university cloisters sprinkled throughout the country, like the one my sister lives in now, where young people trade a lifetime of family efforts for credits, which become scores, which become a piece of paper that will not guarantee them anything else, nothing at all except a lifetime of living in phantasmagoric limbos between half-voluntary deployments, job searches, applications, and inevitable redeployments.
