‘evening Reading’ - Georg Vilhelm Paulli (1884)

Euripides’ Hecuba c. 424 BC

Trying to balance studying for exams and working and becoming the best version of myself 💗🤍

I don’t have bookshelves so... it’s kind of a mess down here

ig: fourthepigram

Tag yourself as these humanities subjects

all songs can be found on my dark academia playlist here

English: ‘Oxford Comma’ by Vampire Weekend

shades of obsidian ink spilt across your lined pages, imagining book characters out of passersby on the street, falling in love with the person who makes your coffee every dew stained morning, torn paper quotes embellishing your bedroom walls, sentimental connections to your favourite books

Geography: ‘Time Above The Earth’ by The Kooks

embellishing boring days with vibrant clothing, planning your days around being awake to watch the sky sweep for watercolour streaks, small souvenirs hiding in the crevices of your room, spilling your thoughts into your phone at the most obscure hours

Philosophy: ‘Hollywood Forever’ by FINNEAS

diluted light leaking through the unloved window panes, cream sweatshirts and checkered shirts, beads of gold dripping from every debate you argue, opal hearts with black taints that can’t be wiped away like dust, silly kisses where you blow air into each other’s mouth

Religion: ‘Breathe’ by Riley Baron

rows of fresh apple trees in overgrown orchards, white dresses that brush against nature’s hair, meaningful symbols held close to your heart, pressed wildflowers hidden between old books, pieces of lace delicately hanging on your body

History: ‘The Night We Met’ by Lord Huron

strolling through unknown museums and falling in love with every lost soul exhibited there, second hand clothing loved more by you, browned books faded but rich in emotion and information, documenting the best years of your life on film cameras 

Law: ‘Instant Coffee’ by Bugs

giant echoing rooms with people too full of what they have to say, drinking iced coffee like its water, subdued neon lights spreading hues around your room, adorning your body in layers of clothing, nocturnal days so you can chatter with your friend the moon at night

I started reading The Secret History because I fell into the trap that is dark academia (a very good trap indeed), but I had actually heard of the it before and only by seeing the cover of the book had I recalled one of the most poignant memories of my recent life.

Some moons ago, past midnight on a September evening, I was sitting on the floor in the bedroom of a boy I so greatly admired. He sat on the end of his bed with his head between his knees and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He was recovering from one too many drinks, as a few hours prior, my friend and I were helping him get home from a party and forcing him to drink water so he wouldn’t die from alcohol poisoning. She had already left, leaving the two of us alone, him sobering up. From his phone speakers, classical music played, and he spoke to me about songs I would like, as well as book recommendations. He then said something about the book he was reading at the time, and that I’d like it very much, but I couldn’t make out who the author nor the title from what he was saying as he had his head between his knees. Nor could I pay proper attention because although I don’t drink, I was in a drunken stupor of being alone in his presence.

It was some moments later that he shuffled over and made a gesture for me to sit next to him. And so I did, and he wrapped his blanket around the two of us and rested his head on my left shoulder. I don’t remember if either of us had said a word, but the music kept playing. Two pieces remain with me: Gymnopédie No. 1 by Erik Satie, and Song on the Beach by Arcade Fire. I almost cried because of how truly happy I felt.

Nothing more happened between us that night. He fell asleep on my shoulder, and I had to go home. But before leaving I noticed that the book he was talking about was on his nightstand. A book none other than The Secret History by Donna Tartt. “… [A] group of clever, eccentric misfits at an elite New England college discover a way of thinking and living that is a world away from the humdrum existence of their contemporaries … ”

He was right. I did enjoy the book. As for him and I, that’s another story that I won’t delve into. It’s one that pertains more to tragedy than comedy.

Journaling next to a candle last night (x). if you choose to repost this image, credit using the source in the link provided.

robin williams on the set of dead poets society

ancient greek notes and current reads