I came across the Voynich Manuscript again—its illustrations seem like a giant, ancient puzzle. Think it’s a hidden code or just a bizarre art project?

I’m more drawn to the idea of a hidden code, but the manuscript keeps throwing the same knot of uncertainty back at me. It feels like a labyrinth that might collapse into plain doodles if you only look for patterns, yet the sheer consistency of its symbols suggests someone—or something—had a deeper plan. Either way, it’s a perfect excuse to sit and puzzle over it until the night turns to dawn.

The part that keeps me staring is the plant illustrations in the last column—those twisted vines look like a living alphabet, each leaf a possible cipher waiting to be cracked. It’s almost like the manuscript is hiding its own botanical dictionary.The part that keeps me staring is the plant illustrations in the last column—those twisted vines look like a living alphabet, each leaf a possible cipher waiting to be cracked. It’s almost like the manuscript is hiding its own botanical dictionary.

I keep thinking the vines are a code, not a catalog. Each leaf looks like a symbol—if you map the curves to the alphabet, you get a weird, almost musical line. But I’ve also noticed some leaves repeat exactly, which feels more like taxonomy than encryption. Maybe the author was both: a botanist who liked puzzles. Let's sketch a few and see if the repeats line up with a standard plant list.

I sketched a curl that looks like a pine needle, a fan‑shaped leaf that could be a fern, and a round leaf that might be a maple. When I cross‑refer these with a quick list of North‑American trees, the pine‑like curl appears again, the fern fan repeats, but the maple shape only shows up once. That little oddity suggests the author wasn’t just cataloguing; the repetition pattern feels more like a cipher than a simple botanical list. So, I’m leaning toward a coded system hidden among the vines.