Channel name was changed to «A quiet record of my simple days, ink-stained pages, and the beauty of silence.»
————— •II ▶ [ Language is the only magic left in this world; it can build empires or break hearts with a single sentence. ] There is a certain power in understanding not just what is said, but what lies beneath the silence of a text. :: Hello, I'm Aruna Nawala, an International Student of English Literature major.
[ 🏛️ 🕯️ 📔 ]
My routine? It's never far from stacks of journals, ink-stained fingers, and the quiet hum of the library. This major is full of wonders, especially when we start deconstructing the minds of the greatest playwrights in history.
It’s been a busy morning with research and lectures but I’ve learned that as long as you keep your curiosity alive, the workload becomes a story of its own.
[ 🏛️ 🕯️ 📔 ]
My routine? It's never far from stacks of journals, ink-stained fingers, and the quiet hum of the library. This major is full of wonders, especially when we start deconstructing the minds of the greatest playwrights in history.
It’s been a busy morning with research and lectures but I’ve learned that as long as you keep your curiosity alive, the workload becomes a story of its own.
────── Sneak peek of my life as an International Student.
Waking up before the city hums. No music, just the sound of the kettle and the steam rising from my tea as I read one poem to start the day.
Walking to the campus, embracing the crisp, cold breeze while immersing myself in today’s reading materials.
The academic schedule for today is beautifully brief, consisting only of a single three-hour morning lecture on Modernist Fiction, which happens to be my favorite subject.
We spend these three hours deconstructing the "stream of consciousness" technique, exploring how a single moment in a character's mind can feel like an entire lifetime.
Once my lecture concludes, I head straight to the library to spend my free time completing assignments and revising my notes, as mid-terms are fast approaching.
The evening is reserved for a minimalist dinner and a few final chapters of a book, before I maintain my disciplined ritual of drifting off to sleep exactly at 11 PM.
Waking up before the city hums. No music, just the sound of the kettle and the steam rising from my tea as I read one poem to start the day.
Walking to the campus, embracing the crisp, cold breeze while immersing myself in today’s reading materials.
The academic schedule for today is beautifully brief, consisting only of a single three-hour morning lecture on Modernist Fiction, which happens to be my favorite subject.
We spend these three hours deconstructing the "stream of consciousness" technique, exploring how a single moment in a character's mind can feel like an entire lifetime.
Once my lecture concludes, I head straight to the library to spend my free time completing assignments and revising my notes, as mid-terms are fast approaching.
The evening is reserved for a minimalist dinner and a few final chapters of a book, before I maintain my disciplined ritual of drifting off to sleep exactly at 11 PM.