Students walked across the quad, their heads buried in the paper. They stopped at the image on the front cover. They pointed. They whispered. They got angry.
That was the crux of the problem. They had a story—it was a good one, too. An exposé on how the university was quietly selling off a chunk of the botanical garden to a private developer for a parking lot. They had the documents, the quotes, the angry botany professors. What they didn't have was an image. portada universitaria
It was the kind of humid, sticky afternoon that made the ink in ballpoint pens dry out and the students in the lecture halls doze off. But in the basement of Building C, the air was electric. Students walked across the quad, their heads buried
Students walked across the quad, their heads buried in the paper. They stopped at the image on the front cover. They pointed. They whispered. They got angry.
That was the crux of the problem. They had a story—it was a good one, too. An exposé on how the university was quietly selling off a chunk of the botanical garden to a private developer for a parking lot. They had the documents, the quotes, the angry botany professors. What they didn't have was an image.
It was the kind of humid, sticky afternoon that made the ink in ballpoint pens dry out and the students in the lecture halls doze off. But in the basement of Building C, the air was electric.
