Nina Bodow

Firstly, please note that this letter is specifically directed to Kroon’s top floor. I am not as familiar with the rest of you. Sorry if you take any offense. Let’s get into the main point.

Kroon Hall’s top floor, I spend more time with you than I do with my own dorm. Your lighting situation?? Phenomenal. The main source of light is your rounded-gingerbread- house-shaped window at the back of the hall, and let me tell you, I am a huge fan. And then, you have even more windows?! I do not think there is a place one can work in Kroon without a window. Even on the most atrocious of cloudy days you have natural light pouring in. The orangey-brown wood’s luster creates an illusion of sunshine. Also, there are plants. PLANTS!! In Kroon, you leave seasonal depression behind. 

If somebody has never experienced the wonders of your top floor, they should imagine everything Bass’s lower level isn’t. There is joy at Kroon Hall. Your furniture is also top notch — the couches have great depth, and the coffee tables between are great footrests (I’m sorry if you’ve taken any offense to my constant foot-up-stance in your hall). Also, I know I already mentioned your plants, but I just wanted to let you know — again — how much I like your plants.

And to top it all off, KH, your environment is ideal. Let me explain why: it’s quiet, but not too quiet to a terrifying Starr or Stacks degree. Personally, this is my ideal lock-in noise level. I like to know that humanity is still present. 

That being said, if it ever happens to not be quiet, you’re probably having an event. Everyone likes you and wants to have their events on your top floor. But as a frequent Kroon-dweller, this works out: if it’s too noisy to do work, there is an event that I can poach food from. It’s a win-win. I’ve left Kroon Hall study sessions with grapes, a backpack full of seltzers, a tray of vegetable sticks, and one time, a whole Frank Pepe’s pie. That doesn’t happen at Bass. 

Another note is that if someone wants to avoid seeing an abundance of familiar faces, you provide an oasis. There seems to be this disease at Yale, a disease where one always sees exactly the people they don’t want to run into. You’ve created a space where we can escape the familiar and find serenity, far away from the overcrowded, popular study spots.

So what do you fail to do? Nothing. I have nothing but love for you. KH, I love your wood and your light and the way your structure is rounded and your couches and your coffee-table footrests and your events. Thank you for being an escape, a warmly-lit seasonal depression illusion and most importantly, a Frank Pepe’s pie provider. I’ll be back soon.

By the way, did I mention that I love your plants? 

Love,

NB