The Cryptography Students

Rain pounded on the roof of the car, plunking out a melody.

“What do you think happiness is?” Theo often asked these unexpected questions, so Alexander wasn’t so very surprised.

“Not crying myself to sleep every night,” the words had slipped out of his mouth as he read his book in an uninterested tone. Now he looked at Theo, weighing his reaction. Theo’s face had a puzzled, maybe worried, expression on it.

“Hm.” He didn’t say anything more. Alexander wouldn’t admit that he’d hoped Theo would. Alexander didn’t know it, but that scene near the brook at midnight all those months ago was playing through his head again. After a bit, Theo continued.

“Are you happy?”

“I don’t know,” Alexander said, looking at the rain crashing down on the window. The melancholy that came every night and used to make him cry in Autumn now only resided in his mind as a dull numbness that visited before he went to bed each evening, but it was there, even still. Theo did not enquire further this time, and the two returned to reading their books, Alexander consumed in a secondhand copy of The Tenant of Wildfell Hall and Theo skimming through a book of Sappho’s poems.

CAMILLA MACAULAY

Thank you.

“She was a glorious doll, so fair and delicate! She did not seem created for the sorrows of this world.”

— Hans Christian Andersen, What the Moon Saw (1866)

“It isn’t Spring until you can plant your foot on twelve daisies.”

- Cambridgeshire Saying

Source: Botanical Folktales of Britain and Ireland

i love knowledge. i love knowing even the smallest of things. i love translating text and finding hidden meanings. it doesn't matter what it is, learning something new every day has always been a source of true happiness.

It's always: "wanna hang out" but never "hey let's create a secret society and read literature and poetry"

A Poem About Rain

I walk out,

Feeling the cold air press against me.

The clouds melt,

Sending their crystalline droplets.

They shatter on the cold ground,

So quickly;

I seem a goddess.

Little dark spots appearing

As my oxfords tap on the pavement.

Drops drip

From the cherry tree,

A bride in spring’s white.

I knew this would happen.

Something in the way the clouds hung over the sky,

Something in the shadow.

I knew that it would rain.

Something in the air, the ambit.

Rain, the ultimate acissmus.

Peace before the onslaught,

Icarus also flew.