carrie walked downstairs, 7am, from our warm loft-like second story, to the ice cold living room where she found the front window open and my video camera bags laying outside. "happy birthday, we've been robbed" she says, i wake up groggy and voices coming from the hallway by the bathroom. i became twenty-three years old yesterday and woke up thankful my mac and purse were in my bedroom that night, my other roommates had their bags and computers stolen right from our house, out our front window. thankful no one was hurt but feeling very icky that this all happened while we slept, feeling safe in our own beds, as strangers came in and took what they might. mckenna had just uploaded photos from her summer costa rica trip and the camera that was stolen contained footage from cameroon taken a few summers ago that i've never uploaded or edited yet. completely irreplacable footage. my first day in yaounde where we watched a mother giving birth, our first drives down the streets of the city, so many important images and experiences. gone. needless to say, we at the olive, are a little disheartened. there's nothing like feeling violated and unsafe in the one place you are supposed to feel the most secure. frustrated at monetary loss but also mourning the passing of memories a stranger now holds and couldn't care less. i only hope whoever took the stuff in some desperate situation and needs the money more than we do. i suddenly feel an urgency to pull out photos from that summer and remember the faces, the dirt, the smell of cameroon, hoping not to lose it forever.