Cincinnati, Ohio, USA - 9:05 EST
In a medieval time not hardly associated with hedonistic pursuits of excellence and intellect we are compelled to visit a forrested valley of western France marked solely by its very seclusion. In a dense copse on the side of a small hill we find the crumbling remains of a once grand watch tower. The dusty, grey stones of its structure have been strewn into heaps now blanketed with ivy and clematis.
This hidden area would normally be ignored by the largely uneducated and apathetic world, but to a certain group of young men this valley has become haven for their scholarly interests. This small band formed a secret society, a dead poet society, if you will. Every evening when their diurnal duties on the family farm were concluded they would abscond to this dilapidated tower to divulge their desires for knowledge. They would pour over the works of the ancient classics and make new discoveries of their own. Can such a fraternity have formed in Europe in the midst of a slump in learning? I insist that it is so.
Like any respectable arcane fellowship, this band created their own rules and codes and even their own private language. The language they devised had many French, Latin and German influence and all of their documents were recorded in this language. They loved their secret society and gave it a name they found to be very apt: "Anor Waltin Asiliso Decouvas" ("Our Sylvan Santuary of Enlightenment") The initials for their fellowship were embossed at the top of all of their documents and has come down subtly through history to refer to any such band so unified by the common principles of intellect.
Thus concludes today's edition of Capricious Pif. . .well, you can decide for yourself whether or not it's piffle.
(And you always thought AWAD just meant A Word A Day.
)
Happy Birthday AWAD!!
