Beneath the Surface

Part 5

Longtai stood at the gates of the university, his bag hanging loosely from his shoulder. He looked up at the imposing stone building in front of him, the sprawling campus spread out beyond the entrance like a maze. His appearance was neat, understated. His black bangs fell over his forehead, slightly tousled from the wind. He wore a navy blue sweater, loose enough to hide his slender frame, paired with black jeans and well-worn sneakers. His almond-shaped eyes scanned the crowd, unsure, uneasy, but determined to blend in.

Around him, the energy of the campus buzzed with life. Groups of students milled about, chatting animatedly, some running toward their classes, their backpacks bouncing as they rushed to beat the clock. Others lounged casually on the lawn, soaking up the morning sun, or leaned against walls, scrolling on their phones. A few students played frisbee, their laughter echoing in the open space. A group of friends nearby playfully shoved each other, messing around, and someone shouted across the courtyard to get someone’s attention.

Longtai felt the tension in his chest tighten. The people, the noise, the rush of activity—it was overwhelming. He shifted his bag, gripping the strap a little tighter, and forced himself to take a deep breath.

You’re here now. Just take the next step.

With a small nod to himself, Longtai stepped forward, weaving through the crowd. He kept his head low, trying to avoid the groups of students laughing and talking loudly as he passed. The campus was vast, and the signs posted around the pathways didn’t help much in calming his nerves. He was looking for the photography department, but the more he walked, the more he felt like he was getting lost in the sea of people.

After a few minutes of wandering, he finally spotted a sign pointing him toward the arts building. He quickened his pace and made his way there. As he approached the entrance, the tall windows of the building reflected the morning sun, casting long shadows across the pavement. Longtai stepped inside, and the noise of the campus faded into a quieter, more focused atmosphere. The halls were lined with posters of past art exhibitions and photography showcases. The energy here felt different—calmer, more intimate.

He found the lecture hall easily enough. When he walked in, a handful of students had already taken their seats, scattered across the room. The room itself was spacious, with large windows letting in natural light. Longtai paused for a moment at the entrance, his eyes scanning the available seats. There were plenty of empty spots, but he gravitated toward the back, where he could sit unnoticed. He chose a seat on the far end of the last row, placing his bag beside him. It felt safer here, far from the center of attention.

Longtai glanced around, noticing the other students. Some of them were chatting quietly, while others were already absorbed in their phones or sketching in notebooks. He felt a pang of loneliness but quickly pushed it aside. He was used to keeping to himself.

After a few minutes, the door opened, and the professor entered. He was a young man, probably in his early thirties, with short, neatly combed hair and black-rimmed glasses that gave him a scholarly appearance. He wore a dark blazer over a button-down shirt and jeans, a mix of casual and professional. He carried a stack of papers and a laptop under his arm as he walked to the front of the room and set his things down on the desk.

“Good morning, everyone,” the professor greeted with a warm, relaxed smile. “I’m Professor Kittisak, and I’ll be teaching you the basics of photography this semester.”

His voice was calm but engaging, and it seemed to draw the attention of the students. Longtai felt a little more at ease listening to him. The professor adjusted his glasses as he continued.

“For those of you who are new to this, don’t worry,” Kittisak assured them. “We’re going to start from the very basics and work our way up. Photography isn’t just about pointing a camera and taking a picture. It’s about seeing the world through a different lens—quite literally.”