Imagine

The academia life is just so revitalizating. Reading is such a satisfying activity for the mind and soul.

Me too

how to love a dark academic:

• write them letters and seal the envelopes with fancy wax seals

• buy them books

• write them poetry

• quote shakespeare, or really any other author or playwright to them

• read and discuss books with them

• listen to their 3 am rants on how we could've heard oscar wilde's voice if he'd had lived just a tad longer

• help them study

Is there anything better than reading a book and having a cuppa?

This gave me “Midnight in Paris” vibes. Imagine just casually talking and having tea with Uncle Willy Shakes, Marlowe, Jane Austen, Nietzsche, Hemingway, Lord Byron, and your other favorite writers. Ahhhh that’s simply perfection.

I was reading about Francis Crick and James Watson’s discovery of DNA in 1953…and admiring Santiago’s beautiful drawings of neurons…and Alan Hodgkin et Andrew Huxley’s mathematical discovery of calculating how action potentials propagates along a neuron…I couldn’t help but think how romantic it all is. To me it’s so interesting learning about the process of discovery. It’s incredible because all these people were just like us—students. It’s romantic because it’s human—a human experience—an insatiable thirst for knowledge, curiosity that knows no end. A perseverance to succeed. The ultimate quest to generate a novel idea before anyone else does. How can anyone say that science is not poetic? Science is poetry written in a different language, an esoteric one at that. But poetry nonetheless.

Melancholic Medical Student by the Sea

Salty air, grey fog, chilly breeze, cricket chirps, full moon, partially cloudy sky, slippery rocks, cold sand, paper cut, oversized faded blue plaid shirt, chemistry books on the floor, cold abandoned coffee, black cat sleeping an emerald green flannel, heavy rain tapping on the window, cold ears, neatly folded navy scrubs, warm candlelight, unfinished lab report, iodine, verses from Hamlet running through my mind as I drift into daydreams…unable to concentrate, it is cold and I keep reading the same page about aortic aneurysms, dried out perrywinkles, half eaten toast, Franz Schubert’s Schwanengesang, D. 957: IV. Ständchen playing on the record player at a low volume, skull on desk, seagulls dropping blue mussels on the empty beach parking lot, unopened letters, heavy eyelids, barnacle shells, bleak oblivion, creaking floorboards, anatomical sketches collecting dust, distant breaking waves, unreciprocated love, tight chest, fidgeting, messy illegible notes, smell of old books, staring into nothingness….

“To die, to sleep- to sleep, perchance to dream/ Ay, there’s the rub, for in this sleep of death what dreams may come” (Hamlet, 3.1)

I’ve been collecting the quotes from celestial tea

I absolutely adore this!!!!

Dark academia is always about Literature History and ancient languages - I love it, but it's not my boat

Why can't I found this Dark science aesthetics anywhere? I need this in my life.

A Confession to the Astral Bodies

October 19th 3:25 am

I went downstairs to make a cuppa of Lady Grey. The moon illuminated my path down the stairs. The kitchen was lit with her silvery light. Candles were not needed at all. The white marble tiles were tinted with a silvery periwinkle hue. I made my way towards the windowpane after putting the kettle on. I leaned against the icy glass to look up at the heavens. The full moon looked majestic in all her regal vestments. She is hypnotizing tonight with the stars ever so bright. My eyes began to wander, and came to an abrupt halt upon spotting Orion's belt; the three distinguished flickering dots above me. Soon enough, I found some of my other friends: Sirius, Perseus, Lynx, and Gemini. Draco and Aries were out of reach tonight, probably navigating about the celestial sphere. But, we will meet again at the zenith of my universe when the conditions are right. I recall making my daily confessions to the constellations above. They would listen and provide me with the consolation and redemption I sought out for. The stars have seen me cry. The stars have seen me smile. And the stars have been my dearest companions. I woke up from my trance when I heard the kettle whistling. I took out a teabag from a viridian tin box and placed it in my beaker mug. As I poured the boiling hot water, the aroma of citrus and lavender filled the air around me. I then poured milk and stirred in a wee bit of sugar. I took a sip and the gelid numbness on my toes and fingertips subsided. The howling wind and the elegant rustling of leaves outside was the moon’s sirens call. I was once again in a trance and made my way towards the kitchen door of my humble seaside cottage leading into the veranda outside. The wind pierced through my skin and salty sea air filled my lungs. I felt truly and in every possible way, alive. My senses seemed to be enhanced by some mystic power. I looked up and let the moonlight penetrate my mind, body, and soul. All my woes dissipated at that serene moment. All that lingered on my mind was the moon’s sublime beauty and her scintillating stellar servants in the empyrean domain.

-A Chemistry Academic

H.A.

Snape?