The
      Cadre
      -
     
    
   
   
    
     
      6
      April
      1999
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
      This
      Is
      the
      end.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      here
      are
      five
      clumsy
     
     
      [sss
      in
      this
      room,
     
    

    
     
      two
      tables.
      Five
     
     
      desks
      more
      or
      less
      used
      for
     
     
      work
      and
      writing,
      but
      you
     
     
      wouldn't
      know
      that
      for
     
     
      looking
      at
      them.
      They’re
     
     
      covered
      with
      the
      remains
     
     
      of
      a
      year
      in
      this
      faction
      of
     
     
      the
      student
      press:
      our
      bot-
     
     
      tle
      money,
      broken
      disks,
     
     
      snippets
      of
      paper
      from
      eve-
     
     
      rything.
      It’s
      like
      reading
     
     
      the
      rings
      ofa
      tree
      and
      find-
     
     
      ing
      how
      old
      we
      are.
      Or
     
     
      how
      wise
      we’ve
      become.
     
    

    
     
      This
      carpet.
      It’s
     
     
      stained
      with
      run-off
      rain
     
     
      and
      melted
      snow
      that
      seeps
     
     
      into
      the
      office
      from
      some-
     
     
      where.
      We
      haven’t
      figured
     
     
      that
      out.
      Or
      whether
      or
      not
     
     
      asbestos
      lines
      those
      pipes
     
    
   
   
    
     
      They
      remind
      us
      of
      our
      ex-
     
     
      tended
      student
      journalist
     
     
      family,
      where
      it’s
      not
      unu-
     
     
      sual
      to
      slide
      the
      journalist
     
     
      ahead
      of
      the
      student
      (that’s
     
     
      what
      we
      all
      are,
      journalist-
     
     
      students,
      I
      guess).
      We
      find
     
     
      them
      funny,
      find
      ways
      to
     
     
      make
      ours
      better.
      We
      learn
     
     
      and
      try
      things.
      We
      debate
     
     
      their
      uses
      of
      nudity
      --
      full
     
     
      frontal
      and
      otherwise,
      their
     
     
      cover
      designs,
      their
      flags,
     
     
      their
      mastheads,
      their
      gut-
     
     
      ter
      widths.
      It’s
      a
      reminder
     
     
      of
      how
      we're
      not
      alone,
      of
     
     
      how
      we’re
      not
      the
      worst
      no
     
     
      matter
      what
      anybody
      else
     
     
      tells
      us.
     
    

    
     
      Aesthetic
      principles
     
     
      abound
      in
      here.
      Every-
     
     
      thing
      seems
      more
      beauti-
     
     
      ful
      with
      a
      little
      crayon,
      a
     
    
   
   
    
     
      feine
      in
      generic
      colas
      when
     
     
      the
      elevator
      shuffles
      back
     
     
      and
      forth
      between
      mission
     
     
      control
      and
      the
      third
      floor
     
     
      of
      UPEI’s
      Main
      Building,
     
     
      circa
      1862.
      These
      noises
     
     
      are
      the
      reminders
      of
      the
      life
     
     
      that
      this
      campus
      has
      some-
     
     
      where,
      buried
      deep
      in
     
    

    
     
      It’s
      probably
      some-
     
     
      where
      around
      here
      that
      a
     
     
      supposed
      to
      jerk
      tears
      wi
     
     
      the
      heartfelt
      anecdotes
      of
     
     
      the
      sleepless
      nights
      and
      40
     
     
      hour
      work
      weeks
      on
      top
      of
     
     
      school
      that
      made
      it
      all
     
     
      worthwhile.
      I'll
      save
      some
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
      in
      the
      back
      right
      corner
      of
      _
      neater
      stack
      of
      stackables.
      criticism
      rolls
      off
      my
     
     
      the
      Inner
      Cacia.
      We're
      We
      tape
      things
      to
      the
      walls
      back
      like
      beads
      of
      water.
     
     
      probably
      really
      sick
      from
      to
      make
      it
      more
      personal,
      It
      could
      be
      that
      they're
     
     
      this.
      The
      smells
      leftover
      in
      to
      take
      the
      edge
      off.
      Be-
      tired
      of
      complaining.
      It
     
     
      here
      are
      unholy
      pizza
      that
      tween
      the
      snakes,
      the
      post-
      could
      be
      that
      I'm
      tired
      of
     
     
      was
      good
      the
      first
      three
      ers,
      the
      mice,
      it's
      almost
      listening.
      But
      I
      am
      not
      yet
     
     
      times
      and
      that
      mold
      thanks
      _
      pretty
      inhere
      if
      you
      breathe
      _
      tired
      of
      telling.
      :
     
     
      to
      the
      carpet.
      1
      your
      mouth.
      The
      So,
      goodbye
      Main
     
     
      We've
      got
      these
      posting
      of
      the
      artifacts
      06.
      Goodbye,
      newspaper
      —
     
     
      chairs.
      None
      of
      them
      started
      out
      as
      silly
      office.
      Goodlucktothose
      —
     
     
      match
      and
      only
      three
      are
      eyecatchers
      to
      take
      the
      who
      come
      after
      me.
      —
     
     
      worthy
      of
      sitting.
      One
      has
      sterile
      out
      of
      the
      wall.
      You're
      bloody
      well
      going
      _
     
     
      its
      legs
      busted
      off,
      one’s
      Nowit’sabigmassofnos-
      to
      need
      it.
     
     
      wheels
      don’t
      roll,
      and
      a
      talgia.
      Sentiment-poi-
     
     
      fairly
      large
      proportion
      have
      _
      soned
      history
      showing
      the
     
     
      Peja
      ge
      ao
      al
      ena
      males
     
     
      them.
      You
      have
      to
      ong
      ,
      :
     
     
      dibs
      to
      get
      a
      good
      seat,
      and
      still
      here.
      Some
      have
      run
      Karen
      Rawlines,
     
     
      even
      then
      it’s
      only
      tempo-
      screaming.
      editor-in-chief
     
     
      rary.
      in
      Saaaaiichc
      of
      the
      »_
      neaghemabee
     
     
      ing,
      there's
      a
      coffee
      o
      morning,
      the
      night
     
     
      mailed
      to
      us
      by
      our
      b
      this
      asylum.
      It
      keeps
      us
     
     
      ers
      and
      sisters
      in
      arms.
      awake
      more
      than
      the
      caf-
     
     
      _
      My
      grade
      four
      teacher
      wrote
      me
      a
      note
      once:
      —
      ——-
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
      ees
     
    
   
   
    
     
      ke
      a