Although the dorm seems to be quiet, it never actually is. Walls are thin when there is shared purpose, late-night questions, laughter spilled without authorization. Beds are near enough to share secrets and borrow warmth. Everyone assumes this is fleeting, not realizing the building would grow its blocks and follow them for years.
In a dorm, they ask who you are, daily, patience is formed, and privacy is negotiation. Silently, you see others growing into what they don't intend to be. It smells of optimism, thirst, and detergent. The dorm is not only a place. Adults perfect in this rehearsal space where strangers show you how to survive before life calls for action.