At the stroke of three, a signal was given. Johan, along with five hundred others, swept his white cap into the air with a roar. It was the "Donning of the Caps," the official break with winter. In that moment, the grey reality of 1935—the looming political shadows across the Baltic and the sting of the Great Depression—seemed to vanish behind a wave of white felt and silk.
The choir began to sing. Their voices, deep and disciplined, rose over the crackle of the flames: "Längtan till landet" —a plea for the return of the sun. Johan watched the sparks fly toward the stars, feeling the ancient pull of the night. It wasn't just a student party; it was a pagan defiance of the dark.
Johan, a third-year theology student with more poetry in his head than scripture, stood on the banks of the Fyris River. The water was swollen and dark with the last of the winter melt. Around him, the crowd was a sea of dark wool coats, but every eye was fixed on the balcony of the University Library, Carolina Rediviva.