Brontë Sister Supremacy

I believe that a morning should never describe a day. Of course, I don’t believe mornings listen to mortal pleas and reasoning, but I try to enact this rule myself. Yet, it is a morning’s nature to bleed into your perception of a day, tint it with sorrow or with beauty. The only times when I forbid myself from enforcing this rule is when my day is unknowingly stricken with a morning of perfect quiescence, an awake before the world has begun to turn. Those rare mornings can feel free to pour through the seams of time and stain the parchment of afternoons and evenings a beautiful shade of rose. I’m quite a hypocrite, I do know.

Moodboard for @torturedsoulsblog! :]

You ever see a pretty dress, a well-organised notebook, a peculiar balcony or read one line of poetry and get the overwhelming urge to reinvent yourself

When sunflowers can't find the sun,

They turn to face each other.

Lately, it feels like the sun has been hiding,

So I've been turning to face you;

You haven't been looking back.

Maybe you've found the sun where I can't see it?

I'll follow your eyes,

Follow you to the sun.

ancient greek word of the day: πολυνιφής (polyniphēs), deep with snow

Alexander woke early; he had left the window open, and fragrant pear blossoms were now floating in and depositing themselves on his face and chest. He thought of yesterday evening and smiled, picking up the little, white flowers one by one and dropping them onto the floor of his room. He stood up and dressed quickly. He picked up his bookbag and nearly ran out the door, but stopped to fuss over his hair, blowing in the spring breeze that came in from the half-open window. He gave up and went down the stairs, skipping every other step. With his bag carelessly flung over his shoulder, he started walking towards the South Meadow, breathing in the sweet air. He hadn’t realised how he felt towards Theo, not now, not yet. All he did was smile and look at the clouds running their slow race across the sky. Before he knew it, Theo fell into step beside him. He kept smiling.

“Good morning, Alexander.” Hearing his name on Theo’s lips awoke him from his reverie.

“Morning,” he said, suppressing his smile so that only the left corner of his mouth turned upwards.

They walked in silence for a bit, passing the few boys that were awake at this early hour. Alexander noticed the way Theo’s curls fell onto his forehead, the way his eyebrows scrunched up and his lips parted slightly when he seemed to be thinking about something, the way he examined Alexander’s face when he thought he couldn't tell. Their eyes met more than once, sweet moments of horror intertwined with whatever that feeling you get when you smile like an idiot is called.

They sat down at a bench near the meadow, and Alexander opened his book. Theo, however, pulled out a sketchbook and started drawing something that Alexander couldn’t see. Before he knew it, the noise built up, and Alexander opened his phone to check the time. They ran to assembly together, laughing the whole way. Everything felt fuzzy for that entire day. They smiled at each other in English, and Alexander noticed how often they agreed on arguments. He also noticed how Theo looked so deeply at the words on the pages of whatever piece of literature they were examining, as if he were trying to piece together a puzzle without all of the pieces. He always looked for a deeper meaning behind every word so quickly, looking for some sort of wonder where Alexander didn’t think to search.

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When Haruki Murakami said, "Sometimes I feel like a caretaker of a museum - a huge, empty museum where no one ever comes, and I'm watching over it for no one but myself." And when Audrey Hepburn said, "Living is like tearing through a museum. Not until later do you really start absorbing what you saw, thinking about it, looking it up in a book, and remembering - because you can't take it in all at once."

His pillow was wet with salty tears and his eyes were swollen from crying as he woke up. His chapped lips stung with the taste of saltwater. Diana called him.

“What time is it,” he asked, his voice cracking. He hoped she would think he was just tired. She did not.

“It’s just about 8 o’clock. What’s wrong?”

He didn’t say anything but simply hung up. He walked to the South Meadow again, slower than last time. He did not see Theo next to him. After a few minutes sitting at the bench next to the field, he heard a voice behind him.

“You’ll be late to chapel,” it said quietly, worried. Theo popped up in front of him. He tried his best to smile. Theo did not mask the concerned expression on his own face. He noticed a stray tear right under Alexander’s eye, and knelt down to wipe it away. The feeling of his hand on Alexander’s face made his skin tingle. He started to smile honestly. Theo sat down next to him quietly.

It started to rain, and Theo stood up from the bench.

“We’ll be late,” he repeated simply. Alexander walked behind him to chapel.

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subject aesthetics masterpost

completed:

humanities and social sciences

history

political science

psychology

economics

sociology

law

forensics & criminology

anthropology

philosophy

archaeology

linguistics

classics

folklore studies

theology & religious studies

international relations

women’s studies

east asian studies

natural sciences

chemistry

biology

physics

astronomy

botany

wildlife science

paleontology

geology

marine biology

mathematics and logic

mathematics

computer science

statistics

engineering

engineering

computer engineering

bioengineering

electrical engineering

mechanical engineering

civil engineering

chemical engineering

aerospace engineering

agricultural engineering

art 

art & art history

music

dance

photography

film

theater

design

language

language

french

japanese

chinese

translation & interpretation 

arabic

literature

literature

creative writing

poetry

journalism

medicine

medicine & anatomy

pharmacy

veterinary science

nursing

occupational therapy

respiratory therapy

other

education

geography

library management

architecture

cryptography

in progress/requested:

humanities and social sciences

european studies

africana studies

postcolonial studies

social work

communications

marketing

finance & accounting

medieval studies

viking studies

psycholinguistics

indian classical students

natural sciences 

gemmology

astrophysics

biophysics

toxicology

environmental studies/environmental science

cognitive science

data science

horology

oceanography

microbiology

robotics & biotechnology

quantum physics

art 

interior design

fashion & fashion history

double bass

languages

hebrew

greek

latin

tamil

hindi

german

italian

sanskrit

urdu

applied linguistics

spanish

korean

medicine

remote medicine

nutrition

opticianry

epidemiology/public health

oncology studies

psychiatry

neuroscience

dentistry

diagnostics

speech language therapy

literature

comparative literature

russian literature 

other

game design

city planning

teaching assistants/TAs

food technology

port & maritime management

veterinary forensics

student athlete

thanatology

political ecology

cybersecurity

“Vive vitam tuam, nam morte tua morieris.”

Live your own life, for you will die your own death.

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