I live in London madeira nizagara 150 rut rival When the tour came to a close, I walked by the gong that students ring when they enroll, through the lobby with the children’s play set in the corner, and out into a parking lot noisy with the sound of the highway. As I got into Jenkins’ car for a ride to the train station I noticed something in the adjacent lot. It was empty and neglected, having been forgotten years ago. But there was something growing amidst the emptiness. A field of weeds had shot through the asphalt, yearning for the sun.