The land here in the Navajo Nation seems to stretch infinitely under a weightless sky: orange cliffs, vistas spotted under snow, and in the middle of it all, the occasional home.
On branches, the only lights left on in the room.
On December 25 at 11:56 p.m., I realize that it’s our last Christmas in this house.
Yip insists that almost all his accomplishments are “no big deal,” but his friends will tell you that it’s exactly people like him who define the Harvard community.
When John L. Ezekowitz ’13 received a call from an area code he’d never seen during the middle of his econometrics class sophomore year, he felt it might be important, so he stepped out to take the call.
—Delphine Rodrik '14, Associate Magazine Editor