“Wisdom Is Not A Product Of Schooling But Of The Lifelong Attempt To Acquire It.” – Albert Einstein

Guercino’s Angels  The Angel of the Annunciation, 1646  Angel, 17th century  The Annunciation, c.1616-18 The Angel of the Annunciation, c.1638/1639 

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.

vintage perfume bottles, dusty books, stained glass windows, velvet sofas, dried roses, lipstick smudged coffee cups, shiny shoes, whispered wishes.

PICNIC AT HANGING ROCK 1975 | dir. Peter Weir  

We can talk it so good we can make it so divine

by ashlypic

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.

Icarus Also Flew

You might look at my life

You might look at a moment of it

You might look at a year

a decade

a century

a millennia

You know I am not to be gone

I will be remembered

My life may look bleak,

My poems laced with sadness.

I look back on them now,

Pretty Little Messages to (sorry I can’t

share this name) and (or this one)—

And to the rain.

But, if you looked at a moment,

A day, even.

Oh, would you see.

Descartes and,

Appalling and,

Hunchback and,

Natalia and,

A Boy and—

Each is my name for a moment.

Together, a name for myself.

Icarus also flew.

we had been late for coffee