The Capitol

It's massive. Not just spatially, but in presence. Maybe it's because it is my first time here, but I don't recall a time where I've felt chills crossing a threshold. How could you not? The archway leading to the entrance seems more of a fit for giants to pass under rather than normal people. I counted the entrances, there were three-which if compared to the size of the building, one would think that ants would be better fit for the job of entering-and they provide no indication of what one is to find inside. The place is surrounded by what seems to be a strict order, at least the main path leading to the entrance did. 14 lamps, 7 on each side, 28 trees, 14 on each side, a noticeable symmetry of the building. I do feel like laws are made here; the strictness of the place is eerie best. There are many people outside, tourists-most of them anyways-and the little monumets makind their home around the place seem now like an attractions where everyone wants to take their next picture.
Inside the contrast to the outside is undeniable. Everything seems humanized now and I get the feeling of normalcy again. The diminutive entrances lead into a room of normal height, with ornate walls, columns and doorways; I don't know if it's the byproduct of my education, but by looking around I feel the importance of the place, the history, and most importantly, the sheer anymosity I feel everytime I see the "history" of Texas splattered on the walls. Right in the middle, where the dome is located, is a multiple story opening where, it seems, everyone that steps into that particular room, makes a dash for the Texas star in the middle and looks up to the heavens, where they happen to meet another star, albeit with the letters T, E, X, A, and S taking up the spaces in between the points of the star, and the massiveness hits me again.