#English (Grammar & Composition)

[bonicedemandarina]

Click for better quality!

Hey guys I'm still into wha btw, here's my art for the deciduous spells zine, just wanted to draw my favorite guys being happy for once.

I feel like my art always ends up being in a modern au idk how, it just keeps happening

[titansandcurses]

c is a fake ass fucking letter. it stole/copied/plagiarized k and s's sounds like it doesn't have its own sound. and don't fuckibg say ch because jews have been using the 2 interchangeably for centurie and that sound could be all for h and still make sense

[muhammad-ubaidullah-khan]

SCIENTIFIC ENGLISH GRAMMAR

WITH

COMPOSITION AND TRANSLATION

FOR SECONDARY SCHOOL

BY

R. B. KHAN

FEROZSONS (Pvt) LTD

[asegbolu]

The Boy Who Had Courage: A Hero's Tale

The Boy Who Had Courage A Tale of Bravery One dark night, a group of thieves targeted a large house in a village. They arrived secretly in the middle of the night, hiding their getaway car in a bush nearby. As they entered the house, they ordered everyone inside to lie down on the floor. In their haste, they stole many valuable items, including a radio, a television set, and all the money they…

[kanika456]

Enhance your language skills with Arya Publishing's graded English grammar and composition books. As a leading educational book publisher in Delhi, they offer comprehensive study materials to support your learning journey.

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

I think something that's fascinating in the AI discussion is how non-creatives perceive AI versus how many creatives perceive AI.

For example, years before AI was a thing--I spoke with someone about my creative writing projects and they expressed to me how they found it unfathomable that I could just make up entire worlds far removed from our reality of existence. To them, it was like magic.

To me, it was the culmination of countless hours spent playing with words until they flowed into semi-coherent lines of thought and emotion. I remember being ten years old and laboring away on my "biggest" novel project ever--it was 5k words full of singular sentence-long paragraphs and garbled heaps of grammar atrocities to the English language.

If I hadn't written it, I wouldn't have come to learn how to create the basic foundations of a story.

But I do get the "it's magic" sentiment a bit--I'm that way with music. Theoretically, I understand the components of a music composition but it feels like magic to see a musician that can listen to a tune for the first time and play it perfectly due to years of honing in their craft.

That's the premise of that quote from Arthur C. Clarke: "Magic's just science we don't understand yet."

When it comes to anything we don't have countless hours of experience with, it feels like magic. It feels like something that's outside of our feeble human capabilities. It's not until we start to put in the time to learn a skill that it becomes more attainable inside our heads.

Generative AI presents a proposition to the non-creative: "What if you could skip past the 'learning process' and immediately create whatever art of your choosing?"

It's instant dopamine. In a world that preys upon our ever-decreasing attention spans and ways of farming short spikes of dopamine, was it ever a surprise that generative ai would be capitalized in this fashion?

So for the non-creative, when they use generative AI and see something resembling their prompt, it feels good. They are "writing" stories, they are "making" art in ways they could never do with their lack of skills.

(It is, in fact, really cool that we have technology that can do this. It's just incredibly shitty that it's exploitative of the human artists whose works were taken without permission as well as its existence threatening their livelihoods.)

What I think is equally concerning as the data scraping of generative ai is the threat that AI imposes on the education of the arts. More and more, you see an idea being pushed that you don't need knowledge/experience in how to create art, all you need to do is feed prompts into generative ai and let it do the "work" for you.

Generative AI pushes the idea that all art should be pristine, sleek and ready for capitalism consumption. There is no room for amateur artists struggling like foals to take their first steps in their creative journeys. We live in a world where time is money and why "waste" time learning when you can have instant success?

It's a dangerous concept because presents a potential loss in true understanding of how art works. It obscures it and makes it seem "impossible" to the average person, when art is one of the freest forms of expressions out there.

It's already happening--Nanowrimo, the writing challenge where the entire point was writing 50k original words in a single month regardless of how pretty it looked--coming out and saying that it is ableist and classist to be opposed to AI is the canary in the coalmine of what's to come.

For the non-creatives who enjoy the generative ai, it feels like a power fantasy come to life. But for creatives concerned about generative ai?

We're living in a horror movie.

[finaleourconcert]

our composition book || jeong jaehyun social media au

who could have thought it would all start with a bunch of bad jokes?

'el señor de la noche' is a pub known in town for its very varied themed activities and parties, which can go from open mic/rap battle night to karaoke/concert night to evenings of dance practice for the elders to midnight dj sessions. and it is at this place where jeong jaehyun makes a reality of his frustrated childhood dream

pairing: jeong jaehyun x oc [fem]

genre: strangers (to acquaintances) to lovers, mutual pining, just two adults trying to get through their quarter-life crisis

status: ongoing!–

important: all of nct 127 (ot8) members are involved but none of them are idols per se, there will be written parts as well so the fic as a whole makes more sense, updates are probably going to be random and slow but i will try my best, don't mind timestamps unless stated

author's note: this is my first time posting on tumblr because i generally write on ao3 but i thought it could be fun trying a smau this time so you guys are going to have to bear with me lmao also keep in mind english isn't my first language so there could be unintentional grammar mistakes. oh and just in case someone needs to know: chapters with titles in cursive are (half) written.

au's title: our composition book by wild nothing

any feedback (specially comments) is well appreciated <3

ps: if anyone wants to be tagged, let me know in the comments!

—♡——♡——♡——♡——♡——♡——♡——♡——♡—

their profiles

friends profiles pt1 | friends profiles pt2 | friends profiles pt3

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven | twelve | thirteen | fourteen | fifteen | sixteen | seventeen | eighteen | nineteen | twenty | twenty one | twenty two | twenty three | twenty four | twenty five | twenty six | twenty seven | twenty eight |

—♡—

other works

[r-inijhinix]

Ok but Neil had more to say about his fucking Freshman Composition teacher than he did his father after he died. Like, I'm fairly sure all we got from that was "My uncle had him executed" and "I didn't think it would be that easy"

(Also I like to think Neil is a total bitch about English going forward)

(Like, his teacher will be talking about "where art thou Romeo" and an essay on the themes and symbolisms in Macbeth or some shit and he'll be furiously jotting down "thy should die" in the margins)

(Kevin reviews his notes and is all "that's not proper grammar" because he's a history and literature nerd)

(And Neil is just So Done because he has the yakuza and his homicidal father to worry about - why tf is Shakespeare causing more problems than that)

(So he's just like "go fucketh thy selfeth")

(Right up until Andrew talks to him about Shakespearean curses and he's like "oh!!?" and pulls out "More of your conversation would infect my brain, you starvelling, elf-skin, dried neat’s-tongue, bull’s-pizzle, stock-fish" on some unsuspecting interviewer that made one too many missteps)

(He tells Aaron "Away, you three-inch fool!" whenever he's being particularly insufferable)

(Neil may never be able to write about Shakespeare, but it's not like Shakespeare would be able to recite the Riko Roast)

[det-agency]

payneland yule exchange 2024

@clementiiny

tw: bullying/abuse/ptsd/underage drinking

prompts: pre-canon, hurt/comfort, domestic vibes charles-centric fic

Charles eyes the space Edwin cleared out for him on their homemade bookshelf.

-------- ≪ ｡❅*⋆⍋⋆*❅｡ ≫ --------

It was funny at first, two ghosts were haunting an old abandoned building. Nestled in off streets on some abandoned development project in Southern England. He can remember when they first stumbled in on a mirror hopping exercise, and Edwin taught him how to concentrate so that he could help move the discarded clapboard pallets. The way the pressure built on his hand without the texture of the wood was so alien to him at the time. When the hastily nailed planks finally rose his eyes darted to Edwin automatically.

“Very good Charles,” his smile radiating in his voice and eyes.

“Thanks mate, I think i’m getting-”

The pressure dissipated instantaneously, the rush of sand colored boards falling in a blur and crashing so loud to reverberate in the unfurnished concrete building.

No one spoke or moved for a minute.

-------- ≪ ｡❅*⋆⍋⋆*❅｡ ≫ --------

Now two months have gone by and he has an empty shelf of the same discarded wood. Right next to Edwin’s growing collection of magical tomes and comics.

Somehow.

The sentiment is nice, but Charles isn’t much of a bibliophile. The last book he cracked open himself was probably Warriner’s English Grammar and Composition- complete course. If he had Edwin to read his coursework to him before his midterms- as well as the signs of faery possession- he might have had a better time retaining information.

He lets his mind fidget with the idea. Sneaking around to study with Edwin would have been loads more enjoyable than swotting up everytime he got wind of a quiz. For all the vapid consternated lecturing about their desire to teach the next generation diligence he’s surprised none of the teachers caught on to his more extreme study habits. He needed to revise twice as long as his mates, whilst still keeping on top of his cricket practice. The stench of smuggled coffee in the shared dorm space, sting of untreated paper cuts on his cricket bat, and echo of quickly flipped paper while on the bench-minutes before practice begins- still haunts him. No one can say his scholarship was not merited. To be candid, a few of his peers tried. They should put his name on a medal.

He winces.

They’d probably think that was lame though. With his friends there was always a give and take. Charles would be too excited or too visually distinctive, and then they would disparage him before intervening. He can almost hear them now, in his head, mocking him for caring enough to wonder what books Charles thinks Edwin would want next to his collection. They’d probably ring his bell if they caught him idling, grinning at it, like a gormless old twit.

Charles starts picking up the books Edwin had pushed to the far side of the room and carrying them back towards their place on the shelf. Each one aged into a different neutral hue.

It’s not like getting lumped aside the head is the worst, he’s just had his fair share of it. The sharp painful corrections reverberated through concert gigs, class, and his old house. With his Dad it was something you could count on. Like the chime of a clock or the clunk of his boots on the floor above him when he got home.

The closest he gets to that is when Edwin scolded him when he misplaced a hand-bound copy of Materials Toward a History of Witchcraft V. II.

His hands were steepled and eyebrows were pinched as he faced Charles.

“It is of our best interest to have our books on occultism organized if we are to keep helping any stray ghost that takes your fancy.”

His tone is sincere with “steps to make sure this does not happen whilst they are in each other’s company.”

It had been the first time Edwin had mentioned a future- their future- together.

So…there are more instances where he messes up with Edwin.

His first offense was gathering discarded vinyl records from the estate to solve the case of the mummified musician. He may have gathered more than necessary. The boxes littered their settled office with the crowded oppressive atmosphere of an obstacle course.

“ I don’t understand the importance of collecting memorabilia from his estate if his condition clearly exemplifies a pharaoh's curse, Charles.”

“Except he’s never been to Egypt, and something is wrong with these records, Edwin.” Charles tests.

“Whatever do you mean?” Edwin asks, hands centering more nervously.

Charles takes the dingy milk crate containing the cursed record to the top of their newly acquired office desk. “He didn’t have any photos of his parents in that house. Closest we got to them was that burnt photo with his passport. So whoever his family is in Egypt he isn’t going back to see them often.” He grabs the third vinyl ceremoniously holding it up and points accordingly.

“This band was based in the UK and was underground in the 70s; they did not have the money to parade around publishing records in Egypt, mate. It also doesn’t have English import tax added to the price on the back so we can figure whoever gave it to him wasn’t a distributor. Finally,” He slides the protective sheet from the record. “The Matrix numbers are utter gibberish.” Charles raises his head to find Edwin studying him instead of the vinyl.

“You know an awful lot about vinyl records, how come your interest has never come up before?” Edwin poaches.

“I’m not interested, mate, this case is just stupid convoluted and I’d really appreciate getting this case closed as soon as possible, yeah?” Charles twists away placing the covering back onto the record and into the jacket delicately.

“Right, of course.” Edwin reassures.

The following offense had occurred after a few days of dodgy eyeing on Edwin’s part. The silent treatment had gotten so intolerable he had resulted in point blank annoying him about the local bands when they walked past the building on their way to pick up new comics and magical tomes from the only occult shop in London to sell to “new ghosts.”

The cold morning air clung to the energy around their forms as they made their way through almost empty city walkways. The greys and blues of the world still clinging to the buildings and street as Charles prattles on about trumpet melodies and inconsistent show times. They had been trotting by a street light holding fast against the elements when Edwin had stopped walking and Charles went ramrod straight.

“Did you use to go to shows frequently?” he asks hesitantly, but his eyes are narrowed and posture is straight, holding a brick sized hand bound french magic book and a recent batman issue with the same reverence, snug against himself.

Charles feels the panic, in his arms and stomach, unfurl their tendrils.

“I-er-well, we all had the go-ahead to leave campus, right, but we could never make it back in time if we went too far, did we? This venue didn’t card, so we always found our way here…eventually.” Charles stammers.

Edwin’s eyes drift to the unassuming dark building with torn weathered posters littering its wall. “You mentioned going to see the Po-Goues in January, but the poster says they were playing January 14th, which is shortly after your holiday. So I may surmise, you came back to St. Hilarion's and then went to a concert in which the interim school faculty would be exceedingly vigilant. You must care about them a great deal.” His eyes roam, and lock back onto Charles, assessing.

“Didn’t think you were actually listening, mate.” Charles teases.

“The Kon 5 is playing next week, so we could attend a show, if you are still interested in such things.”

Edwin steels himself, takes a breath, and then points to one of the newer additions to the wall. Charles follows the line of action from the base of Edwin’s shoulder to the mass-produced poster for the stupid band he used to wait in line to see.

-------- ≪ ｡❅*⋆⍋⋆*❅｡ ≫ --------

The building is dark. Metal and Brick both painted over with worn black overcoats. The stairs lead to an expanse of hallway with an open bar and doors. He remembers Mark used to remind him not to be an idiot and forget the stuff they came in with. Abandoned high heels, coats, and a metal bat line the walk-way. If you follow it you can pass the bathrooms to the back and you can see the open floor of an expansive former church turned remodeled stage.

The members come up one after the other. Each fiddling with equipment and performing checks on their respective instruments.

Charles’ energy is erratic. His hand had phased through the bars of the catwalk; they were camped atop up to his forearms. Being inside shouldn’t be putting his nerves on edge. He should be able to differentiate being in the building now with Edwin for one of his favorite bands and the “friends” who introduced it to him.

Nevertheless, every place his eyes rest rip memories from the depths of his mind to the cold air around him. He remembers, agreeing to help one of his roommates move to afford one of the coats everyone wore. Being too scared to decorate it. Skipping class so no one would see him go to a Citizen 8 gig alone. Standing in the dorm’s communal bathroom, looking in one of the mirrors to the shades of purple on his body, no recollection who to inculpate. “It was just a lark, we didn’t mean any harm.”

Getting harrassed.

Getting Killed.

”Hard Lines mate, maybe next time.” muttered at his fucking funeral.

“Are you alright?” Edwin asks.

“What-er- yeah” Charles stutters, “Sorry, we’ve-I’ve- just never got here early before.”

“Oh, that’s good.” Edwin hesitates.

“Oh, yeah, brills.”

It’s strange they don’t have any roadies or stage-hands aside from the band members. Charles points to the stage. “That is the lead singer James doing the mike check. and-” his arm halts its motion as they both watch in horror as the drummer touches his kit, glows red, dives behind the curtain, and begins screaming hysterically backstage.

Edwin looks at him quizzically.

“Well, that was the drummer.” Charles stammers, “Er-‘m sure, he’s fine, mate”

The Kon 5 are about twenty or so minutes into their set. The trumpets and drums are sycophantic in their rhythm drilling the crowd. Shouts of encouragement and lyrics are spurred out from the people around them. He looks to his right, Edwin stands in his school uniform tight and pristine despite the dingy atmosphere and sub-par lighting. His soft, thoughtful expression breaks into a smile when his eyes lock with Charles.

Guilt stabs him inextricably.

Edwin’s face falls and he pulls him towards the front of the venue. The Green lighting is strained on the hallway to the bathrooms that Charles has had the misfortune of painting in sick after a few too many jars.

“It’s okay if you don’t like the set we could head to the office and-” Charles starts.

“That is not the drummer.” Edwin states matter-of-fact.

The words left no room for negotiation, and were left between them.

“The Glowing was reminiscent of faery possession.”

“They just got back from France,” Hammering draws from Charles’s heart and hits his stomach.

“The shows-the tour,” he supplies, “They might have picked it up in Paris. ‘Right, Edwin?”

“You have the list of tour destinations memorized?” Edwin asks.

Charles feels stinging behind his eyes first.

“No, no, I just used to have their albums on tape and the upcoming tour destinations printed on back ‘innit.”

“You had their albums on tape? I had no idea you were passionate about music when you were alive,” he states.

“ We should see if the drummer could lend us some tapes after we rid him of his faery infestation.” Edwin mutters nodding to himself.

“Passionate?” Charles squawks.

“I don’t know why you insist on pretending you have no-interests or hobbies Charles, but you are clearly knowledgeable on the subject at hand.I had hoped your admission to your interest in music had been an olive branch between us, since you are so pliable to my rantings on thaumaturgy and protection charms, but you seem more fretful. ” His eyebrows are knit together before he continues, “I do not want our companionship to be so one-sided. I don't know any of your passions nor do I wish to have our place of residence devoid of your impression.”

“Mate, i didn’t mean-”

“I saw you restocked the bookshelf. Do you not see the office as a worthwhile place to store your belongings?” he continues. “Honestly, Charles, if you have no plans to stay we need not discuss it, but at least give me something to remember you by.”

The clawing in his throat builds with the silence between them.

“I-er,” he tries looking towards the cheap drywall, “This is just the first time it was okay to care about things, y’know?

And- yeah. I don’t, er- ” his voice breaks, and he half expects Edwin to shove him.

He doesn’t.

Instead, Edwin’s hand is steady as it grips his lapel.

He follows the pale pressed fingers to his wrist, up his covered arm and settles his gaze near Edwin’s face.

“Maybe on our return from our next trip from the occult book shop we can purchase some recordings.” He whispers.

Charles feels the buzzing energy in his hands again. He weighs everything said before him. The new revelation stripped the version of himself he had presupposed Edwin saw.

“Five minutes backstage,” Charles surrenders, picking up one discarded aluminium bat.

“Or we are summoning that drummer.” - ------ ≪ ｡❅*⋆⍋⋆*❅｡ ≫ ------

On the way back they pick up a walkman and cassette tapes for the Po-goues, rage parade, and Citizen 8. They leave behind a newly faery-exorcised signed guitar as payment.

When they get back to the office they make it to the middle of the floor before Edwin stands before him with his hand extended.

“What, right now?” Charles asks.

Edwin remains waiting patiently.

The magic canvas bag prognosticates. He swats his hand inside and picks up the cassette player, a tangled mess of earbuds, and the Citizen 8 tape all in one go.

Edwin’s hands dip for a second under the unexpected weight of the cassette player, but adjusts accordingly. Charles presses the eject button and places the tape into Edwin’s other awaiting hand. His fingers hold it in an unconventional manner while Charles stares in awe.

Too soon he presses the cassette into the cartridge and the hand is tucked under the handheld player.

“The earbuds please, Charles.”

Charles' eyes and hands return the mess of wire that he is desperate to untangle. He separates the left and right sides from the main auxiliary cord. Edwin’s hand reaches below and takes the jack and presses it into the aux with succinct precision. He returns, thumbing the earbud from Charles’s left hand to press it to the side of his face. He feels the loss of contact, and then watches Edwin take the earbud from his right hand before putting it to his own ear.

For a moment, he watches the cord between them.

The black wire joining their faces is short, forcing them a little closer than they usually get. His eyes flicker over Edwin’s face, but they find no discomfort. No, Edwin’s face is concentrated as he works. His eyes pinched with the ghost of a smile on his lips. They’re so close he can see the hint of stubble atop his lip and jaw. The coil coupling them taps below his ear twice before-

Edwin pressed the cartridge closed.

The guitar riff expels gruff and triumphant. Five seconds in the drums pick up a heavy beating in the heart of the song. Their lead singer screeches her arrival in a familiar melody.

Edwin’s eyebrows pinch slightly before a soft smile exposes a hint of dimples caresses his face next to the wire joining them. It takes a dull ache in the side of Charles’ face to realize he’s been smiling too. He feels the contact of Edwin’s fingers against his own before realizing he’s unconsciously reached to support the cassette player with him. The weight is lighter than anything he’s held in this new form.

It takes a few minutes before Edwin wanders to pick up his place in a discarded french spellbook. With both ears filled with the rapid pounding of a drum beat he places the remaining two cassettes on his spot on their shelf. With his energy still warmed from Edwin’s presence, he lays a hand on the exposed wood and lets himself press to feel the pressure.

[reyaint]

the classes | mandatory

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

date: march 23, 2025. 3:01 am. (starting). i fell asleep. lmao. 10:30

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

✧˖*°࿐ The Mandatory Classes

𓂃༊veltrius Lumos Academy's mandatory curriculum blends rigorous academics with cultural and artistic exploration. these courses ensure students develop critical thinking, research skills, creativity, and problem-solving abilities, preparing them for higher education and global careers.

✧˖*°࿐ Language Studies

𓂃༊students are required to take Haiqinian, Greek, and English throughout their academic journey.

*ೃ༄Haiqinian Language and Composition (3 years, Pre-AP & AP Available)

𓂃༊ Year 1 (Pre-AP or Regular Haiqinian Language & Composition I):

✧ 𓂃 › grammar & sentence structure: verb conjugations, syntax, and advanced sentence formation.

✧ 𓂃 › composition: essay writing, formal letters, and literary analysis.

✧ 𓂃 › literary study: introduction to Haiqinian classical and modern literature.

𓂃༊ Year 2 (AP or Regular Haiqinian Language & Composition II):

✧ 𓂃 › advanced grammar & writing: rhetorical devices, argumentation, and structured compositions.

✧ 𓂃 › comparative literature: study of Haiqinian texts alongside global literature.

✧ 𓂃 › research & analysis: writing research papers and learning source evaluation.

𓂃༊ Year 3 (AP or Regular Haiqinian Literature & Composition III):

✧ 𓂃 › critical literary analysis: deep dive into Haiqinian poetry, novels, and plays.

✧ 𓂃 › creative writing & public speaking: writing short stories, poetry, and persuasive speeches.

✧ 𓂃 › capstone research paper: a long-form thesis-style paper analyzing a Haiqinian literary work.

*ೃ༄Greek Language & Literature (3 years, required for all students)

𓂃༊ Year 1 (Greek I – Basic Grammar & Conversation):

✧ 𓂃 › introduction to the greek alphabet & pronunciation.

✧ 𓂃 › basic sentence structure: verb forms, nouns, and adjectives.

✧ 𓂃 › conversational skills: daily interactions, greetings, and essential expressions.

𓂃༊ Year 2 (Greek II – Intermediate Grammar, Translation & History):

✧ 𓂃 › complex sentence structures: subjunctive, conditional, and imperative verb forms.

✧ 𓂃 › translation practice: excerpts from Homer, Aesop, and historical texts.

✧ 𓂃 › greek culture & history: myths, political systems, and philosophy.

𓂃༊ Year 3 (Greek III – Advanced Reading, Writing & Translation):

✧ 𓂃 › advanced text analysis: works of Plato, Sophocles, and Aristophanes.

✧ 𓂃 › academic writing & discussion: essays on Greek mythology, ethics, and politics.

✧ 𓂃 › capstone project: a final presentation translating and analyzing a classical Greek work.

*ೃ༄English Language & Composition (2 years, English III is an elective)

𓂃༊ Year 1 (English I – General English Skills, Literature & Creative Writing):

✧ 𓂃 › grammar & vocabulary: structure, syntax, and advanced composition skills.

✧ 𓂃 › literature study: analysis of classic and modern English literature.

✧ 𓂃 › creative writing: poetry, short stories, and personal narratives.

𓂃༊ Year 2 (English II – Critical Thinking & Analytical Writing):

✧ 𓂃 › advanced literature study: British and American literature from different eras.

✧ 𓂃 › essay writing & rhetoric: persuasive essays, literary analysis, and argument development.

✧ 𓂃 › public speaking: presentations, debates, and discussions on literary themes.

𓂃༊ Year 3 (English III – Elective, Optional for Advanced Study):

✧ 𓂃 › world literature focus: exploring literature from South America, Asia, and Europe.

✧ 𓂃 › research & thesis writing: students write and defend a long-form literary thesis.

✧ 𓂃 › experimental writing styles: creative non-fiction, stream-of-consciousness, and hybrid prose.

✧˖*°࿐ Mathematics (3 years, AP Available)

*ೃ༄Core Math Progression:

𓂃༊ Year 1 (Algebra I w/ Probability – Pre-AP or Regular):

✧ 𓂃 › linear & quadratic equations: graphing, inequalities, and polynomials.

✧ 𓂃 › probability & statistics: basic probability theory, combinatorics, and statistics.

✧ 𓂃 › real-world applications: business forecasting, data analysis, and logical reasoning.

𓂃༊ Year 2 (Algebra II w/ Statistics + Precalculus – AP or Regular):

✧ 𓂃 › advanced algebra concepts: exponential/logarithmic functions, matrices, and conic sections.

✧ 𓂃 › statistics & data science: regression analysis, probability distributions, and data visualization.

✧ 𓂃 › pre-calculus introduction: trigonometric functions, sequences, and limits.

𓂃༊ Year 3 (AP Calculus + Finance or Regular Finance):

✧ 𓂃 › differential & integral calculus: derivatives, integrals, and applications in physics/economics.

✧ 𓂃 › financial mathematics: investments, banking, risk analysis, and economic modeling.

✧ 𓂃 › capstone project: using calculus and finance principles to analyze a real-world financial trend.

✧˖*°࿐ History & Social Sciences (3 years, AP Available)

*ೃ༄Year 1 (AP or Regular Haiqin History):

𓂃༊ linear & quadratic equations: graphing, inequalities, and polynomials.

𓂃༊ probability & statistics: basic probability theory, combinatorics, and statistics.

𓂃༊ real-world applications: business forecasting, data analysis, and logical reasoning.

*ೃ༄Year 2 (AP or Regular World History):

𓂃༊ advanced algebra concepts: exponential/logarithmic functions, matrices, and conic sections.

𓂃༊ statistics & data science: regression analysis, probability distributions, and data visualization.

𓂃༊ pre-calculus introduction: trigonometric functions, sequences, and limits.

*ೃ༄Year 3 (AP or Regular Government & Economics):

𓂃༊ differential & integral calculus: derivatives, integrals, and applications in physics/economics.

𓂃༊ financial mathematics: investments, banking, risk analysis, and economic modeling.

𓂃༊ capstone project: using calculus and finance principles to analyze a real-world financial trend.

✧˖*°࿐ Science Studies (3 years, AP Available for Some Courses)

*ೃ༄Year 1 (AP or Regular Chemistry):

𓂃༊ atomic theory & molecular structure: periodic trends and chemical bonding.

𓂃༊ thermodynamics & reaction kinetics: understanding physical and chemical reactions.

𓂃༊ lab work: hands-on chemical experiments, titration, and organic synthesis.

*ೃ༄Year 2 & 3 (Choice of Science, Must Take at Least One More):

𓂃༊ environmental science: climate change, ecosystems, and sustainable development.

𓂃༊ forensics: DNA analysis, fingerprinting, toxicology, and forensic anthropology.

𓂃༊ anatomy & physiology: human body systems, genetics, and medical applications.

𓂃༊ physics: classical mechanics, electromagnetism, and astrophysics.

𓂃༊ marine biology: ocean ecosystems, marine conservation, and field research.

✧˖*°࿐ Specialized & Cultural Studies

*ೃ༄AP or Regular Myths & Legends:

𓂃༊ greek & roman mythology: The Iliad, The Odyssey, Aeneid.

𓂃༊ comparative mythology: Norse, Celtic, Japanese, and Mesopotamian myths.

𓂃༊ symbolism & influence: how mythology influences modern media and storytelling.

*ೃ༄Astrology I (AP or Regular):

𓂃༊ foundations of astrology: birth charts, planetary movements, zodiac signs.

𓂃༊ cultural perspectives: astrology in Greek, Chinese, and Vedic traditions.

𓂃༊ scientific & spiritual debate: skepticism vs. belief, practical applications.

[shinjirev]

The bizarre adventures of Ritsu Shinjo, legal consultant episode 2

Disclaimer: i'm sorry if there are any grammar mistakes. English is not my first language. Hope you can enjoy

Ep 2 – The – suffered – confession () author's interventions/ thoughts - - Added considerations I**: Actions in the middle of dialogues That morning Ritsu woke up early to be able to better prepare for that decisive and particularly delicate moment. He had already prepared everything: the clothes were already ironed and put in the closet correctly, his speech was ready and the flowers were only to be picked up from the florist. Once again Ritsu wondered if flowers were necessary after all, but then he was quite easily convinced that, if as per customary norm the flowers were brought to the beloved ones, then even in that context it would be appropriate. If the girl would have felt uncomfortable with that gesture, he would have cited his sources and justified all the precedents that made him make that choice.

According to his behavioral model, at that time (9:50) she would have been at Sho's kiosk (because Sho's kiosk is always there) and then she would return to the main building at 10:15. In the moment of transit between the two buildings he would have waited for her passage, guaranteeing the almost mathematical certainty that she was alone -only in 7% of the cases observed she had passed there with Kaito or Lucas-.

So Ritsu, with perfect punctuality, placed himself on the path of the scholarship holder and settled down one last time to check that the weather conditions of the day had not had a deleterious effect on his composure. He tidied up his hair, checked his suit to be in order and began to wait, hoping that all those gestures and precautions would not be in vain because of his insecurity. Because yes, at that moment Ritsu would have sworn that he felt insecure in many respects. After a few minutes of waiting, a well-known figure arrived and approached humming. Ritsu immediately felt reassured by her good mood and considered it a positive sign

Ritsu: good morning my associate, *he brings his hand to his chest with a casual and elegant gesture* I observe with pleasure that your day is going on in a pleasant way. If it doesn't bother you, I would need to confer with you. Mc: oh Ritsu good mor- * she notices the bouquet of flowers in his hand and freezes* oh- of course... you can talk to me *immediately understands what is going to happen and approaches Ritsu but does not say anything, considering it correct to rather listen. She immediately notices that Ritsu seems less confident than usual and almost smiles to see Ritsu flaunt his confidence and professionalism so much even at a time like this*

Ritsu: Well, as you may have guessed, I waited for you here for a reason that... does not concern my professional field, but private motivations. Now, before I get to the point of the matter I would like to give you this present. *passes her the bouquet of flowers with a courteous gesture* Mc: Thank you Ritsu for this gesture... they are really beautiful... *she takes the flowers with care and approaches the white petals to smell their scent* Ritsu: well these flowers... (here comes the hard part) *a slight, almost imperceptible, shade of pink makes its way onto his face* were chosen for you in order to represent my feelings towards you. The composition you see is made up of the following flowers: violet, as a vector of affection and sincerity, gardenia for my commitment to you and finally the lily (which symbolizes love and sweetness, but Ritsu does not say it). It is therefore with this present that I would like to formally invite you to (go out with me) expand our collaboration outside the professional sphere.

Mc: *now she really smiles, moved by Ritsu's tenderness in being so formal and seeing him get excited to the point of even blushing* I... *she thinks about the best words to choose to be equally serious* I sincerely appreciate your gift and I would be honored to be able to... Expand our relationship outside of work. Ritsu: *evidently happy with the answer but still serious and composed* can you confirm that your answer is formally equivalent to a yes?

Mc: *holding back a laugh at Ritsu's behavior* yes, I confirm that I told you yes. Ritsu: *begins to feel seriously emotionally compromised and considers it useful to postpone judgment... that is, the date because of his feelings too voluminous at the moment* Perfect then... I leave you to your own occupations and... I will contact you soon for a meeting... of a (romantic) personal nature *he feels compelled to specify it, he fixes his hair and with a newfound confidence, after a courteous gesture he slips away from the situation while she remains there to observe the flowers and smiles at Ritsu's quick disappearance, having noticed in his words and even in his movements something new and sweet.*

[spanishskulduggery]

What's the difference between espanol and castellano?

They both mean "Spanish" but there are some nuances; for your purposes the short answer is most likely that the difference will be español is the language as a whole as "Spanish", and castellano is taught in schools

There's a little more to it, but I'll explain below

-

The main difference between the two is that castellano is best translated as "proper Spanish" while español is just "Spanish"

In other words, a native speaker might speak español but castellano is the kind of Spanish taught in schools. It's not a one-to-one analogy but you can sort of think of it like "English" vs. "the Queen's English"

Historically, the Spanish language as we know it today originated in the region of Castile (primarily in the city of Toledo) and because Isabel of Castile funded the American expeditions and her kingdom would come to govern the Spanish-American colonies in Latin America, it became the version of the Spanish language that spread to Latin America

The major nuance here is that castellano is the language of academics, literature, and all things official, while español can be a bit of an umbrella term for all the different dialects and regional variations of the "Spanish" language

In the US, heritage speakers/learners may speak "Spanish" at home but get tripped up by the castellano in schools because castellano requires more precise grammar and spelling and it is very "official"....... so you can sort of think of it like knowing how to speak English but not doing well in an English composition class

Note: Even in Spain itself, castellano is a variety of Spanish as opposed to the Spanish regional variations in other places

-

Additionally, the two words can refer to demonyms [gentilicios] which show where someone is from; almost like nationalities but could be towns/regions etc.

In that case, español(a) means "from Spain" or a person "Spaniard"; and castellano/a means specifically "from Castile"

That meaning is sometimes less applicable if you're not in Spain, but Castile is a region [usually you're talking Castile and León or Castile-La Mancha], so castellano/a can have a geographic or historical

Again as an analogy, try to think of the difference between the United Kingdom and England, and it's something close to that... where if you refer to English as a language it makes sense, but if you call the wrong person "English" you can ruffle some feathers

EDIT: According to comments some countries will refer to castellano as the Spanish language in general, not español... probably because they don't want to be considered Spanish, but that's a guess on my part

[asegbolu]

Mastering Argumentative Essays for JSS 3

LESSON PLAN Subject: English Grammar Class: JSS 3 Term: First Term Week: 9 Age: 13-14 years Topic: Argumentative Essay Sub-topic: Understanding Argumentative Essays and Claims Duration: 40 minutes Behavioural Objectives: By the end of the lesson, students should be able to: Define an argumentative essay. Identify different types of argument claims. State a position on an issue and provide…

[cleverchaoslight]

if you guys chose to venture out to social communities of native speakers of your target language (like discord servers, social media from that country, etc.) #1 advice do NOT immediately post in english saying you're a language learner and asking for someone to teach you or specifically asking for another native english speaker. just start chatting in your TL, nobody needs to know unless it is brought up. use reverso, translators for your TL (i'd recommend only to check grammar or translate other posts so you get used to composition), dictionaries, etc.

the purpose of these spaces is for native speakers to socialize with each other, and posting in english immediately sets the tone for your relationship with that space + it kind of predicts whether you will truly progress or whether this method is actually going to work. because like any other method it only works if you make it work. some of these spaces also may not appreciate you treating them like they're a resource for you to take from, when it's set up to be a community for everyone to engage and have fun with each other. you get (progress in your TL) what you give (effort to contribute to the community)

[sodalitealchemist]

I - Miracles of the White Nights [Il Dottore x Reader/OC]

For Valentine’s Day I’m sharing the first chapter of my longer fanfiction about Il Dottore and my Genshin OC Marie Snezhevna (this story can be perceived as reader insert type of thing; the characters' names play a big role in the plot and I decided to pick them by myself). In this chapter I have not provided the most detailed background of the current circumstances between Zandik and Marie, but I plan to do so in the future. I don’t really know if I’ll update it in any regular schedule, but for sure I’m going to continue this story. Meanwhile, enjoy!

TW: Minimally suggestive! Mentions of Marie's guesses about Dottore's true intentions.  Summary: Small gestures make a big difference. Due to the long lasting effects of a serious argument with Il Dottore, Marie Shnezhevna gets degraded on the lower position in Haeresys despite being one of his most reliable workers in the lab. Three months later a ceasefire is established. Zandik finds surprising but efficient way to trick her into getting promoted again. Don't repost my artworks/writings please! I'll appreciate likes, comments and reblogs. I am the author of both text and signature illustarion. ♡ English is my second language, there may occur some grammar issues!

AO3 link

I - Miracles of the White Nights

“The days in Snezhnaya seem identical. Wherever you go, you will find your hair and eyelashes frozen. It's so cold that you have to keep moving your body constantly in order to survive, even in the properly chosen clothing. Everywhere you look, you'll be surrounded by the snowy desert. If you stray too far from human settlements, your eyes will be obscured by one of the sudden snowstorms. Bunch of snowflakes will cut into your face like tiny, marvelously crafted blades. Somewhere on the horizon you may spot the outlines of deep, impenetrable, coniferous forests. You will find it difficult to stand straight due to the violent blows of the whistling wind trying to bury you alive in the frosty grave. It's worth mentioning that the typical Snezhnayan days are rather short in comparison to local nights that can last even for months. This land is harsh, but it still possesses unique, raw beauty. Those cold nights offer truly charming views in the form of multi-colored aurorae you couldn't experience anywhere else in equally rich form. The artistry of almighty Cryo Archon is undeniable, only the canvas she uses to paint her abstract compositions are painfully fake. Of course, these aren't the only charms of the Ice Nation. This country is huge and full of contrasts. What may seem surprising is this special time of the year when the sun takes control over the sky completely, so it doesn't set at all. The local population describes this phenomenon as the "Miracle of the White Nights''. Over the course of four hundred years, one could experience many of them, but they could not compare to the fragrant, inflaming nights in the Nation of Wisdom.”

Zandik, as he wasn't holed up in the deepest dungeons of Haeresys, stopped next to one of the windows in the southern part of his mansion and locked his gaze on the distance. The scarlet irises wandered somewhere along the glittering horizon, seemingly without any specific goal as the Harbinger enjoyed pervasive silence. Since he got rid of the segments, it had been happening more and more often. Sometimes he was just trying to shake off a strange feeling of lightness inside his skull. He was fed up with everything. Exhausted with the amount of delayed work. Instead of dealing with serious matters, he wasted too much time on trivial affairs such as correcting the mistakes of people less competent than himself. For centuries he wasn't relying on his employees that much and now he was just even more disappointed with them. After all, they were only humans with ordinary lifespans, without the satisfying amount of experience that would possibly match the level of Teyvat's most powerful mind. Zandik felt frustrated by the lack of quick alternatives to slow down the pace of his own work. He was alone with all of the projects he started when his other selves were still present. By the time he still handled most of the things on his own in different forms, but for now he couldn't even rely on himself truly. This would be a disgrace to him if he addressed this issue to Pierro or their Archon, since for hundreds of years he had been an exceptional professional, the master of planning and reacting quickly to every breakthrough revelation. He was always a few steps before everyone. At this stage, it was not possible for him to return to such a tedious work alone. It would be much less problematic if only deadlines never existed. Escape in thought was his way to break away from the unfavorable situation at least for a short moment. His thoughts traveled to the place where it never snowed. To the forests that sheltered a much richer variety of living organisms. The days were longer there, and the hot nights often made it impossible to fall asleep. The scents in Sumerian air could effortlessly mess with the restless minds of angry young men living for some greater purposes… For the Second Harbigner of Shneznaya, looking towards Sumeru was an involuntary, bitter flirtation with his own past. Currently he was in a place so incongruous to his homeland, but it was the only nation that guaranteed him complete freedom and support in turning his wildest daydreams into reality. It was the only place in Teyvat that allowed him to prove himself the way he was. He had everything he wanted to continue his journey and test the ideas that many would not even dare to think about… And yet, somewhere in his suppressed consciousness, he understood perfectly well that even here he was just a stranger meant to simply play his part. This time, as the man continued staring out the window, he heard the echo of someone's slow footsteps on the marble floor behind him. He recognized the sequence of these steps extraordinarily well… Those were inimitable. If only their owner walked barefoot, she would reach him in perfect silence. The corners of the Doctor's mouth turned up involuntarily.

“Marie Snezhevna,” he said without even turning towards the woman. Instead, he laced his fingers together behind his back. “Is this an emergency? At this hour I would rather expect to witness your presence in the laboratory or in your chamber.”

His voice echoed crystal clear between the walls of the corridor occupied by him and his underling. As usual, the scientist chose his words in a stiff, somewhat archaic way. Although it added seriousness and supposed politeness to his overall image, he himself seemed distant. Despite Zandik's cold demeanor, his interlocutor did not feel rejected. She was used to talking to him. Marie's interactions with Il Dottore resembled rituals based on some unwritten rules which the main participants managed to learn over the last few years. If there was an ordinary side witness there, the said unrefined observer could experience the eagerness to say that both Marie and Dottore enjoyed engaging in these subtle games.

“I will leave immediately if I interrupted something important,” the woman replied calmly, keeping her demeanor professional. Zandik remained silent for a moment, giving her no answer. This made the woman sigh heavily before she turned her back towards him to fulfill her promise. The quiet rustle of her clothes alerted the Harbinger, who slowly turned towards her and squinted his eyes hidden under the raven mask.

“Stop.”

It was an order. Naturally, the woman immediately stopped and turned her face towards him, allowing him to continue his speech. After all, she had to respect his will. He cleared his throat, seemingly offended by the whole situation.

“You wouldn't come here without a reason. Besides, I don't think it's respectful to be in a hurry when you're talking to your boss.” Indeed, he had known her for a long time and he knew what he could expect from her. He had to play it cool, precisely because — since he had fully understood his own position over the last few months – he didn't want to miss the opportunity to finally talk to Marie alone.

Since he delivered the two gnosis to Tsaritsa, he cut off almost all forms of communication with his former main assistant except her reports on the progress of her research under his command. Although the heretical scientist usually didn't care about time, now it felt like the whole eternity had passed. A really strange thing. Deep down in his heart he was a simple coward, or maybe his unwavering patience was reasonable and had finally paid off as the woman herself announced her readiness for a face-to-face confrontation? Marie shrugged her arms and shifted her body weight to one of her hips before shaking her head, sighing again with a faint smile on her lips. It was an extremely familiar gesture, as if everything before had never had the opportunity to set them apart.

“Of course, naturally…” she looked up at him, and then her facial features softened noticeably. “I just want to thank you for everything you did for me. I really didn't expect this. Certainly not after I caused additional problems in a very crucial situation. I made it all about myself. I think you deserve an apology for what I said, when I stated that you're…”

“Your apology is unnecessary.”

The Harbinger made a gentle gesture with his hand to silence her. He didn't want Marie to take old skeletons out of the closet. He also did not want to elaborate more about the choice of his that had a negative impact on his daily functioning. He wasn't even bothered by the earlier behavior of his former assistant anymore. Even though he still couldn't fully accept what she truly meant back then, he understood her perspective on an intellectual level. During that mission, he was caught off guard by Kusanali and he just did what was necessary to succeed. However, he could have done it all more skillfully to minimize the unpleasant side effects of the special operation. However, he did not take this into account at the time, so he was delaying an adequate response to Marie's complaints. No honest apology passed his lips in ages and he wasn't very likely to utter that magical word anytime soon.

“Follow me. It will be much more beneficial,” he gestured and clasped his hands behind his back again. Then, he started moving further into the southern nave of the mansion. He walked leisurely, visibly waiting for Marie to go after him. True to his expectations, she caught up with him very quickly. When Marie glanced at his face from closer distance, she spotted his poor state immediately. He looked extremely tired and couldn't hide it even under the mask. His skin was paler than usual and it had a sickly greenish undertone. Exhaustion would explain his growing isolation in a convincing way. His own pride was his downfall. As they walked through the corridors in silence, listening to the wind blowing outside, Marie noticed that they were approaching the sector of private chambers. His intentions could be... everything and anything.

Dottore's supposed intentions caused Marie's consternation, but in order to avoid hasty guesses, she decided to keep all comments to herself. The time on his side teached her that the worst things were usually caused by the incorrect assumptions about his agenda. Yet, when Zandik started unlocking the door to his dorm, the woman cleared her throat quietly and took a step back.

“I'll wait outside.”  

Slightly awkward smile appeared on her face. She received a reply in the form of a nod. It seemed that he didn't care about the goal that could stereotypically motivate any man to take a woman to his apartment. Overally, Zandik loved privacy, so Marie was going to respect that as well, leaving aside the obvious moral issues. The Doctor disappeared inside his apartment for around five minutes. When he came back, he handed her a small box wrapped in a papyrus. He had a gentle yet wry smile on his lips that only fools could trust. He warned the woman before she started asking him any questions.

“In Sumeru I managed to obtain some new chemical samples which I expect you to analyze, describe, and maybe even extract something completely new from them. I just require you to be extremely careful when handling them. I didn’t choose any intermediary, considering the high value of those resources… I'm strongly against unpacking them outside of the laboratory environment.”

“I see. I will do my best to keep them safe,” Marie took over the package with extreme caution. She seemed to turn pale when she heard a silent clink of glass under the packaging. She looked fearfully at the Harbringer, who rubbed the tip of his nose with his knuckles, covering the lower part of his face at the same time. It took a lot of effort for him not to burst into manic laughter. Fortunately, Dottore was an excellent actor.

“This is another urgent project that has been delayed unexpectedly, so get on with it immediately… If you can make it this evening, I might even consider promoting you again.”

The man sounded as categorical as promising. Yes, exactly, it was a great idea for Marie to return to her previous position. Of course, if only that's what she wanted. Zandik just intended to convince her to do so, being fully determined to achieve the desired effect. Among all of his employees, he memorized cooperation with Marie as the most pleasant. Moreover, he could keep an eye on her constantly to avoid particularly embarrassing accidents involving her... This woman's reliability required appropriate supervision to shine fully.

“Promoting me, you say… For how long?” Although the woman turned it into a joke, she slowly moved towards the opposite side of the corridor, remaining very careful around the package received from her boss. Since Marie was cut from the same cloth as Zandik, she also didn't want to admit that she simply missed the infamous heretic's company. “Apart from formalities, I just wonder what it is. Naturally, I will prepare the report as soon as possible!”

The Harbinger watched as the woman took up her task. It was amusing to witness her curiosity and willingness to gain knowledge. In this particular case, he had a feeling that it would herald a real breakthrough in their united research.

“I'm counting on your expertise, Professor,” he added in Fontanian as she left, before the storm of woman's black curls disappeared from his sight. He expected very quick results from this long-awaited experiment.

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

When Marie entered her study room in the lab, she put the package on the table and rubbed her hands together with excitement. Sumeru was the region with the best samples of poisons. What could be inside the parcel? Small colorful frogs for the production of poison darts, medicines and antidotes, rhizomes, roots, leaves, mushrooms, insects… The tropical jungle hid countless treasures and the fact that Il Dottore himself managed the trouble of obtaining raw materials was exceptionally valuable. Marie didn't know anyone who was more familiar with the local flora and fauna. She herself might not have even paid attention to some things during her on field delegations, but now she had the opportunity to learn something new directly from the mastermind himself. On top of that, he offered her another promotion. Wonderful. Low importance tasks weren't as fulfilling as experiencing the true science. After conversation with Zandik she felt extraordinary happiness that she had not expected to return these days. The way he referred to her as Professor scratched the right part of her brain a bit too pleasantly. She was more willing to try to forgive him for scaring her to death when he destroyed his segments out of nowhere. At the same time, was this really necessary to wait so long before handing her the new project?

The woman tied her hair back and put on protective clothing, quietly humming the first random melody that popped into her head. Then, she walked over the table and began unrolling the package. As soon as she saw its contents, she felt the wave of heat on her cheeks. This wasn't what she expected… She slipped the protective mask off her face in bewilderment, and then, with wide eyes, she began to look at the containers. The bottles indeed contained chemicals, but at first glance none of the substances had something to do with the poisonous flora of Sumeru. Those weren't even standard vials from Zandik's laboratory, but some colorful glass flasks decorated according to the Sumerian manner of design and sealed with appropriate labels. Marie sank heavily onto her stool and began carefully turning the bottles over in her fingers. Maybe… Dottore made a mistake or someone miraculously robbed him, replaced the original cargo and even managed to escape with his life? Sounds a bit too silly, but it was all just women's cosmetics. Nothing really valuable to the scientist.

Rose water, kohl, aker fassi and several niche perfume oils. What's more, at the bottom of the package there was an original Sumerian halva decorated with dried fruits.

Marie tried to maintain her denial, but instead of relief, she felt a pang in her heart. At this point her face felt as if she was on fire. If Zandik planned to give it to her right after he returned and her sulks prevented him from doing so… She felt so bad about herself. Willingly or not, she blinked her eyes a few times, as for a moment her vision became blurry. He had no reason to be so generous. Maybe it was a suggestion that he noticed her getting old slowly, or maybe she should just look for some specific, new purposes for simple household chemicals? Maybe the halva was poisoned or packed with elixirs he hadn't tested before? After all, Dottore always devoured it himself and he was reluctant to share it with anyone. Or maybe Marie was just overthinking at the moment and what Dottore really expected from her was terrifyingly simple. Was it that he wanted her to try those substances on herself, like she always used to do in her job? Zandik wished to see the effects of her work in the evening, which meant there was no time for typical scientific inspection… Marie had just enough time to do her makeup. It was exciting, moving and scary in its own way. It wasn't usual to get any prosaic, non-scientific gift from Zandik.

However, if this was the only requirement to restore the old order in the laboratory, Marie was willing to do it for both of them and touch the precious part of Sumeru that he brought to Snezhnaya for her. Soon the woman's green eyes got embraced by a beautiful dark frame. Her cheeks and lips got touched with the color of a pomegranate with a golden glow. She placed the sweet scent of honey, sandalwood and rose behind her ear. She cut the halva into pieces. For now she was almost ready to face him again. It was one of those white nights, when endless days asserted their domination over the lenghty times of darkness again.