Apprentice and Inquiry

This is a post I wrote up for a roleplay I’m taking part in called Godhood 3. Julius is one of our player’s big villains, and this post leads up to said villain’s trial and butt-kicking at the hands of my main character, the goddess Onore.

It’s all for a game, has not been touched since the original post (beyond some quick grammar and spellchecking that I wasn’t even that thorough on), and it’s about 1600 words.


Alucio was used to getting strange looks from passerby. Even back home in Lampide, there were many who did not trust the Inquisition. He couldn’t say he blamed them – after all, the Inquisition had very near absolute power. It was human nature to be wary of something that you could not stop. This, however, was much darker and foreboding. This didn’t look like the unease of someone whose entire livelihood and well-being could be upended by the words of another. This looked like a pack of wolves, circling and waiting for a moment to tear you apart. They were not welcome here. He doubted they would even be tolerated as foreign visitors if they made too much of a ruckus.

“Oh sweet!” Lukas exclaimed, pressing his hands against the shop’s window, green eyes wide with excitement. “This lamp is Qalistani! And… is that Dancer pottery?! It is! This is awesome! Can we get it?! It’d look great in the chapel back home!”

His apprentice seemed blissfully unaware.

“Lukas,” Alucio said evenly, stroking his beard, “I realize you have a passion for art, but we are not here to sightsee.” He glanced. “And that is not Dancer ‘pottery’. I’ve been to Ilen. Dancer work is… very distinct.”

“…… Killjoy.” Lukas pouted and pulled away from the window. The young man had been a Lightbringer before the Inquisition had found him. He had a real passion for artwork of all kinds, especially paintings and songs. His dusty brown hair was messy and unkempt, as if he’d never taken a comb to it in his life. He was not quite as tanned as his master, having lived most of his life in a studio, but his training had bronzed him before too long. He wore the large hat and black longcoat that was the mark of his office, but Alucio could see some paint marks on it.

Alucio had not changed much since the battle of Lampide(1). He still had that gas mask and his beard was a bit more gray, but he was showing few other signs of his age. “We’re not here to sightsee.” He repeated, pointing to a sign in the door.

Solars not accepted, it read.

Lukas stared at it for a few seconds, then sighed and pulled back. “Right.”

Alucio looked down the street at the people milling about, “The locals don’t really care about us one way or another. The warlord here – Maximillian Eustace Fotheringham, he calls himself – is, however, a little execution happy.” His eyes narrowed at Lukas. “Especially where we’re involved. We’re just lucky to have secured an appointment so he knows we’re coming.”

Lukas cocked an eyebrow, putting hands behind his head as they started to walk towards the center of town. “Then why haven’t the Legions come down on him? It’s not like our Lady would take such a thing lieing down.”

“No,” He agreed, “But Fotheringham would put his people in harm’s way rather than face Her wrath.”

“Probably.” Lukas admitted. “Warlords aren’t known for being peace-loving and kind to their subjects.”

“So we’re here to attempt a peaceful transfer of power, rather than to simply crush him underfoot.”

“‘Peaceful’.” Lukas said dryly, looking down at the two matched swords his master had asked him to bring. “Riiiiight.”

“Or persuade him to be a good neighbor and to stop arresting or executing our citizens.” Alucio pointed to a stone building at the end of the road, the only stone construct in the entire village. “We simply need to persuade him that working with Lampide is smarter and more profitable than working against it. I’ve done my research, the man is arrogant, not crazy.”

It was at that exact moment than someone’s leg came flying out of the stone building and plopped down in front of the two Inquisitors. “THERE! ONLY ONE LEFT FOOT NOW!!! THE NEXT BITCH BETTER KNOW HOW TO F$#%ING DANCE!!!”

Lukas stared at the leg. “You sure about that, Master?”

Alucio sighed. “Less than I was.”

“I love a lady’s who’s touchy, really I do,” Lukas brushed off a servant who was reaching for him. “But the hat stays on.”

“Was reaching for weapons.”

“You were reachin’ a little high for my swords.” He muttered, handing them over. “I’m gonna want those back.”

“Is fine. Just for meeting with master.” The servant said before bowing and allowing them entrance to Fotheringham’s “throne room”.

Fotheringham had originally been a simple mercenary in the countryside, like any other in the Lampidan grasslands. The village he now ruled had once been considered ripe for conversion to worship of Onore. Many of the villages here had, in fact – strangely most of them had some belief system that appeared distantly related to the sun goddess’, and in some cases outright identical. Others, it seemed, had ancient prophecies that told of their coming, perhaps delivered by a masked man, or a doctor(2).

This village, however, had been hit hard by Restless attacks, and had no desire to be ‘grouped together for the slaughter’ or some nonsense, Lukas didn’t remember. In order to preserve themselves during the mistbourne invasion, they had refused Lampidan aid and requested the aid of a brilliant mercenary tactician by the name of Volkan Brighteyes. Brighteyes had successfully defended the village, but in time his subordinate poisoned him and took his place as leader of the band. The band had then settled into the village permanently, declaring the village as permanently under their protection.
That was not the official story, of course. But only a fool completely believes the ‘official’ story.

The man before him now looked like he had enjoyed the benefits of being ruler of a village for far too long. The man was slovenly and unkempt, his beard a tangle and his belly rotund. He had a pair of attractive women to each side, each with their expression neutral. Lukas doubted they were much more than arm candy.

“You will not kneel in the presence of Lord Fotheringham?”

“No, my lord. I’m afraid we kneel only to our mistress, and you are not she.”

The warlord’s eyes burned. “You will speak to me with respect, sun-kisser!! You are here at my pleasure.”

“My lord, with all due respect, your pleasure would have both I and my apprentice strung up by our intestines. We’re in this place because you do not want the Legions to come down on your head and talking to a pair of Inquisitors is more likely to get you something out of this arrangement.”

Lukas didn’t know much about diplomacy but he was beginning to think ‘all due respect’ actually meant ‘go **** yourself’.

Lord Fotheringham (Lukas was also fighting the urge not to snicker) raised an eyebrow at that, but something in the Inquisitor’s tone made him drop the matter. “I already told Julius I’m not interested in being a slave to Onore’s whims. I’ve sent him troops, but I demand more if he wishes more.”

Alucio nodded. “Which is why we are here from Lampide itself to offer a direct partnership with our lady instead.”

Frothingham scowled, rivulets of sweat trickling down his ugly mug. “Call it watcha want, Inquisitor. I ain’t blind, you’s types always talk about protection and pardnership. But I seen through it!” He jabbed an accusatory finger into Alucio’s face. “You’s gonna put your taxes and your soldiers out here in mah village to take it from me!”

“Firstly, taxes are necessary for the maintenance of the roads and our legions, we do not do them for fun.” Alucio said evenly. “Secondly, Initiates and foreign powers do not pay taxes, only cities that have officially joined our nation.”

“They also can’t earn Solars in your cities.” Fatteningham snapped. “I dun my homework.”

“You don’t let anyone in this town use Solars anyway, what do you care?” Alucio pointed out. “If anything it encourages your citizens to stay here, away from the cities.”


Lukas tuned out his master and the annoying warlord as his mind began to wander a tad. As he did so he winked to one of the lady bodyguards, who simply returned a glance of cold stone.

He knew how this would play out: Farting-in-ham would eventually promise to lift the ban on Solars so that the people could trade properly with Lampide for food and supplies, in exchange for having no Inquisitorial or Legion interference. He’d seen his master’s work often enough.

Moreover, though, this would signal the end for Fotheringham.

The economics and culture of Lampide would become the dominant force in this town. Lampide was a powerhouse, and anyone in their right mind would want to trade with them. A vase here, a story there, a happy wedded couple over there… Slowly but surely Lampide’s culture would begin to subsume this village’s. Brighteyes was a great hero worth remembering, and the people would remember his greatness, and find Fotheringham’s wanting. There would be no trust left for the old mercenary, but plenty for Brighteyes and Onore.

After all, Lukas thought as Fotheringham laughed uproariously… The Sun burned the wicked away.

“Master, who is Julius?” Lukas asked as they left town.

“Our next target.”

“…Wait, you didn’t know who he was when we were in there, did you?”

Alucio turned his eyes to glare at his student. “I assure you, Lukas, that that is a temporary arrangement. For now, I simply needed Fotheringham to believe I was there in opposition to a man he didn’t like.”

“…Neat.” Lukas tilted his hat. “I’ll write a song about that trick.”

“I thought you were a painter?”

“I can do both!”

(1) The Battle of Lampide was one of the largest events in the game up to this point. It consisted of a massive invasion on the city of Lampide by mist-zombies and monsters born from the corrupted heart of the planet (long story). Lampide called in all of her allies, from the magical Dancers to the mysterious Joybringers. Ultimately Lampide was victorius, but at great cost. Alucio was a man with a long gray beard and a deep tan.

(2) This isn’t just plot convenience, by the way, the events leading up to those belief systems and prophecies were actually planned by myself and another player.


Soldier and Slave, Part 1

I did a dumb and forgot to prepare a post ahead of time for today again, so I had to dig through some stuff I previously wrote. I doubt it’ll make sense out of context, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

“The Housemen are not trusted anymore.”

Idalia looked up from her greatsword, her whetstone pausing. Solange was looking at her caste’s necklace, a setting sun inlaid with the numerals of a clock. Solange had remained scrawny, and though she wore chainmail it didn’t make her any larger or more imposing, nor did it take a trained soldier like Idalia to notice that she would far prefer to be out of it. Her black hair was oily and unkempt, and the equally black tattoos on her face stood out against her pale skin. Her armor was emerald, as was her cape. It was probably important to her Legion, somehow.

Idalia’s armor was silver with blood-red trim, her own legion’s colors. Her armor was half-plate, and while her hair was messy and black as well, hers was cropped short. She smiled at her sister. “Speak your mind, Solange.”

Solange’s expression was unreadable. “Ever since Ilos decided to stay within the House, there’s been talk circulating that our caste should have gone with him. We continued to visit to get the tattoos, and… well. Some doubt our loyalty.”

“Like who?”

Solange laughed and looked to her sister, her smile back. “I appreciate you’re trying to keep me all sheltered still, Idalia, but I’m not deaf. I hear the things people say. ‘Iceskin’, ‘Deadeyes’, and other such idiocy.”

“If such things bother you, then pretend they don’t exist.” Idalia ran her whetstone along her blade again.

“It’s just sad there are people who think like that here in the capital, is all.”

Idalia shrugged. “I guess it’s a little worrying.”

Solange slid her necklace back under her chainmail and turned back to her table. She was drawing up designs for some new weapon for the Inquisition, Idalia knew. She smirked and placed a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Mother has you sweating up a storm, I see.” She snickered. “So much hard work in a drawing. Don’t strain your fingers, now, you might break a nail. Then who will draw the prettiest art for the Inquisition?”

Solange smirked as she drew in another line, a long barrel taking shape on the weapon. “I’m surprised you can properly pronounce ‘Inquisition’, dear sister. Have you been practicing?”

Idalia feigned a gasp and backed up. “Me talk good much!”

Solange laughed.

Idalia ruffled her hair. “Stay safe, kid.”

“You too, sis. It’s a rough forest.”

Idalia left her sister’s room and shut the door behind her.

Eliana was even less light-hearted when she went to visit. She was already waiting at the door to their small home, a slight scowl on her overtly pale face. Her hair was bright white and draped down to her waist, and she had a bow as tall as she was strapped to her back. “Idalia, this is really something I should be doing.” She said without preamble.

Idalia shrugged. “There’s a monster out there that needs destroying, so I’m gonna go destroy it.”

“Because mother told you to.”

“Yes. And?”

“Onore is our leader, that does not mean she is infallible.” Eliana replied, folding her arms.

Idalia had her own frown now, her eyebrow cocking.

“Fine, she’s closer to it than I am,” Eliana relented, “but this still feels like a mistake.”

“Lampide needs me, Elly.” Idalia said coldly. “Nothing else matters.”

Eliana sighed and started to walk away.


She stopped.

“When I get back, we’re gettin’ mead, alright?”

She was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “As you wish.”

Idalia pulled experimentally on the saddle strap, making sure that it was tight and secure. Satisfied that it was, she placed one foot in the stirrup and pulled herself on. She turned to her fellows, eyes cold and bleak.

“Let’s move out.”

The thunderous sound of a dozen horses galloping through the gate was like a furious prelude to a storm.

Story update: Aurora Wood

A week ago

Maybe I should type up my next blog post early… Midterms this week, after all.

Two days ago

I should at least START, the only things I have left are a partner letter that my partner offered to finish and a presentation on x86 computer systems…

Yesterday afternoon

Welp! Midterms are done. Should probably get on that blog post now.

Yesterday evening

Yup. Definitely something I should be doing right now… Just wish I could remember what

1:52pm Today

What was I supposed to have done by ten this mor- …SHIT!

Everything below is subject to change. In particular the name ‘Hodran’ will probably change.

A grove of crystal trees in the planet’s southern hemisphere, the Aurora Wood is a sacred place to the Hodran species. It is the only location on Hodra (outside of its volcanoes) where light shines. When a Hodran dies, their spirit wanders the surface of Hodra for a time. However, spirits eventually travel to the wood to rest. The crystalline trees of the Aurora Wood hold countless spirits within, and shaman can learn much through communicating with them. It is the final resting place of all Hodran.

During the First Contact (the Hodran’s name for their first war with the Horos) the Aurora Wood was occupied by the Horos as their main base of operations. General Capric believed that because the grove was both intact and uninhabited before their arrival, the Hodran would not attack the base with anything larger than a strike force for fear of damaging the trees. In addition, the trees gave off a bright glow that would allow his soldiers to see more clearly while keeping the Hodran wary.


The Aurora wood features prominently in the first part of the Chronicles of Hodra, and I got stuck during a scene i was writing on it. So I decided to sketch it out, get a general feel for where everything is in the story. And then I realized I was late on writing a blog post and owed you guys a story update.

The tiny circles are the crystal trees mentioned above. The bigger circles with giant lines coming out of them (that look kind of like broken lightbulbs) are the regular trees… the ‘regular trees’ for Hodra, anyway, which are more like skyscrapers than trees. The things that look like corn feeders are watch towers. (There’s probably a few more than are sketched here), but the ones that are sketched here have spotlights). The boxes with Zs on them are mechs (stands for Zodia).

In the scene I’m stuck on, the Hodran are leading an assault on the Horos base. The story is told partly through the eyes of a Horos soldier, but I had no idea how the space the Horos was in related to the Hodran or where their patrol would be. I decided eventually that the Hodran would go in in a way that they were sure would avoid the mechs – namely, a cluster of crystal trees too close together for the mechs to maneuver properly. See those triangles in the bottom left? Those are Horos and Copai, on patrol. They’re a bigger force than usual since A) [redacted for spoilers] and B) they can’t get mechs in there.

In the center is a massive crystal tree (I’ve got a role in mind for it, but I haven’t decided if it’ll serve a role in this particular book) and a Horos Gate, a rather advanced piece of tech that plays a heavy role in the story

Hope this bit of world-building was worth the minute or two it took to read =) Yes, I am fully aware it’s odd to call it the ‘Aurora wood’ when the trees are crystal, not wood.

(oh, and the text you see there on the right is from the back of the page. They’re notes on the forest itself.)

Prompt: What country should fictional villains be from?

Links to source

The question ‘what country should fictional villains be from’ already misses the damn point.

A fictional character can be from any country you choose, from the real-world city of new york to the fictional middle eastern town of… i dunno, let’s call it Ahcem. But a person from New York isn’t going to be the same as a person from Ahcem, who isn’t going to be the same as a person from Japan, or Brazil, or the United Federation of Planets. A villain from Russia isn’t going to have the same values, skills, plans or goals as a villain from the Sahara Desert, which is why making your villain automatically from a given location missed the point of giving them a place of origin to begin with. A specific country is not, in and of itself, a valid reason to have a villain from there.

If you have a 50 year old communist secret agent turned businessman, it makes sense for him to be from Russia. But – as an example – it doesn’t make much sense to have your Nazi be a time travelling Viking from South Africa. A fictional character’s home and place of origin should say something about who they are. Russia, for instance, has a long history of strong central governments and autocratic rulers, so it would make sense that a Russian man have a strong belief in discipline, unity, the value of the collective over the individual, etc. On the other hand, America has a long history of fighting against a new “crisis” every generation or so, and arguing over the nature of liberty. An American man would be more likely to value individual autonomoy and the power of personal choice. It’s okay for a Nazi to be German (for what I hope are obvious reasons) but it doesn’t mean that a German villain is okay to treat like a Nazi.

So the question becomes ‘what would cause this villain to think this way’. If that is enhanced by a particular nationality, so be it, but the idea that any particular nationality is automatically okay to be a villain is racist, nationalist, AND stupid.

In addition, one must be careful not to fall into stereotyping any particular group. To use a previous example, while it is perfectly possible that someone from Russia would believe in the power of a strong government, it’s also possible they would reject their nation’s ideas entirely and instead be strong proponents of Anarchy, or just in part and urge for a strong welfare state. Or not even particularly care about politics and just be a huge anime geek, who builds giant robots to conquer nations for fun… Better write that one down.

I find it helps to think of particular ideas as influences rather than full-on rules – vikings were encouraged to drink, fight, and worship their pantheon. That doesn’t mean you won’t find a pacifist viking, or one who refuses to drink. It’s just less expected.

(No offense meant – this isn’t a commentary on any particular nationality, I’m just saying that where you grow up and the history of where you grew up influences how you think)

How to get Wonder Woman and just do the damn Justice League movie!

I’m sorry if this seems incoherent, I’m trying to belt this out while the idea’s still fresh in my head.

Here, Warner Brothers? I’ll give you this one for free and keep it brief. When you do the Justice League movie, you only need to have 3 heroes: Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman. So only have those 3 heroes.

Looking back, one of the things that made Avengers so amazing was just how easily it could have gone wrong. Think about this for a minute: we have six main characters (eight if you count Nick Fury and Loki) competing for the spotlight, and each one managed to have a chance to shine and be an amazing presence on-screen. Most of the heroes got to banter with Loki (Hulk’s is my favorite) and nobody feels wasted or misused.

That probably ain’t gonna happen twice, especially if you don’t have Whedon directing.

So, here’s what I propose to you: start out with a small roster. The big three: Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman. This’ll let you focus more on the three characters themselves, and let you show all of them off in their own unique way.

Over the course of the first Justice League movie, have them meet up with a new League member (say, the Flash) and have him/her join at the end of the movie. Bam, now you’ve got a wonder woman movie AND a different hero’s movie (probably the Flash).

Hell, I even have a lead in for ya. m’kay?

After the Batman/Superman movie, have Batman get injured somehow or something and crash on Wonder Woman’s island of Thymiscara (or however it’s spelled). Then have Wonder Woman nurse him back to health, and reveal her as the end credits scene. That way not only do you set up Wonder Woman’s desire to see and know the outside world for the Justice League movie, not only do you also have a reason for Batman to trust her on the team – she saved his life –  (also, Batman+WW OTP. The animated Justice League was awesome.) but most importantly you set up that Wonder Woman is incredibly compassionate. She’s the spirit of truth, known for her honesty and the depths of her compassion, so show that before you show her powers. Show you can get a character besides Batman right!

And then that will lead into Justice League, where Wonder Woman already has her powers. Then you can make a prequel for the first Wonder Woman movie (seriously, how does she not have a movie yet?) that ends with her finding Batman or something… I haven’t thought that far ahead.

But yeah, to sum up: Have Batman wash up on Thymiscira at the end of the Batman/Superman movie, meet Wonder Woman, and have her brought into the Justice League movie.

I just noticed in the related content thing that apparently Wonder Woman IS going to be in that movie.

Well I still hope Batman washes up on Thymiscira to meet her. Gotta go finish Paladin and Demon…

Games Daughters Play

Solange twisted the sides around on her cube, tongue sticking out between her lips as she fully concentrated on the hunk of wood in her hands. A Housemen she’d met on her latest escape- er, unplanned vacation had given her the cube, and told her to “create order from the virulent chaos.”

The twelve year old’s response was to smash the cube, put it back together and say “Like this?”

Solange had gotten a new cube, and had it slowly explained to her that she was supposed to turn the sides. Now she looked around the cube’s sides, trying to determine the quickest way to put the cube back into its proper shape. But for real, this time.

Six sides. Nine squares on each side. Each square had a pair of runes, and when put together properly, the cube formed a poem. (At least, she thought that was what it did – the Housemen hadn’t been very clear) But for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out the tale. Heck, how was one supposed to put together a poem from this anyway… And where did it start on this bloody cube?!

Eliana tugged on Solange’s legging. “Play with me!”

“Fire born, fire day, death night…” Solange grumbled, still looking at her cube. “Should’ve asked for a hint. This poem makes no sense…”


“And all the sides look the same, how’re you supposed to tell where it starts?!”

Eliana pouted and moved over to Idalia and Dawn. Idalia was standing with her fist closed and near her shoulder, her open palm lower. She was… Eliana didn’t know, learning a basic stance from some fighting style or something. But who cared? Eliana wanted to play NOW.

“-just surprised Housemen came up with it, is all.” Idalia was saying.

“No caste has a monopoly on ideas that benefit them.” Dawn said calmly. “Turn your feet a li-”


One moment, Eliana.” Dawn said, moving Idalia’s other hand. “Hold that position for as long as you can. Your stance is everything, Idalia.”

“It hurts a little…”

“It’ll be uncomfortable for a while, but eventually it will require no effort.” She turned to Eliana, smiling. “Now, what was-”

“PLAY!” Eli grabbed the woman’s hand and dragged her to the side.

“Eliana, it’s not that big a OW stop squeezing!”

Idalia watched Dawn get dragged off and sighed. She then looked to Sol, keeping her stance as still as she could. “Getting any closer on that cube thing?”

Solange didn’t answer, twisting the cubes’ sides.

“Typical.” Idalia grumbled, turning her head back around. “Can’t even say ‘**** off’.”

“Language, Idalia.” Solange said, twisting the cube’s sides again. “Maybe if I… no, that moves water day out of position… wonder if the poem is-”

“Oh for the love of…” Idalia growled. “It’s not a poem.”

Solange finally looked up to Idalia and cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean?”
“It’s not that complicated – you get each of the six sides to have only one of the left elements on them, with the right in the same position on each face.”

Solange blinked, then looked down at the cube. She performed several quick twists. Idalia looked ahead, keeping her breathing under control. So the answer was ‘no’, apparent-


Idalia’s head immediately shot around, moving out of her stance and grabbed the cube from Solange’s hands.


Idalia looked the cube over. Indeed, Idalia had solved the cube ridiculously quickly. She looked at the girl, blinking. “How did you do that?”

Solange frowned. “Gimme the cube back and I’ll tell you.”

Idalia tossed it back to Solange, who caught it, glaring at Idalia. “Okay, now tell me how you solved it.”

Solange gritted her teeth.


“You think I cheated.”

“Never said that!”

“You thought it.”

“I didn’t think anything.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s mostly true.”

“Excuse me?!”


Idalia and Solange both looked up to see Dawn standing over them. She picked up the cube and looked it over. After a few moments of silence, she looked to Solange. “How did you accomplish this?”

Solange scratched her head, grinning sheepishly. “Er, I spent so long looking for the poem I uh… kind of memorized what every square was on the entire thing… and where? And from there it was a matter of simple math.”

Idalia could’ve sworn she imagined it, but for a brief moment she thought Dawn’s eyes had widened and her mouth dropped. It must have been her imagination though, because in the time it took to blink, she was just smiling motherly again.

Motherly, eh… Idalia kept her smile to herself. She wondered if Dawn would take one of them home one day – scratch that, she wondered when that would happen and (more importantly) if she would keep coming back.

“That’s brilliant.” Dawn tossed the cube back to Solange. “Could you show me?” She glanced at Idalia. “Dear, you need to hold that stance for as long as you can.”

Idalia smirked with amusement and moved back into her stance. Solange looked back down at the cube and saw (with some small bit of irritation) that the cube was messed up again. Eliana tugged on Dawn’s dress, still pouting that nobody was playing with her.

We are Creators Living in our Prime

I’m a writer. And the greatest things I’ve ever written were hammered out as a collaborative with someone else. My best characters, best stories, best settings… all came about because someone else looked at what I’d written and said “Well what if we did this…” Because everyone has a new perspective to offer. Even if that perspective isn’t the most brilliant thing you’ve ever heard (though usually it was still smarter than whatever I was blathering), it’s still different, and they lead you to new ideas too.

This post is so true and so inspirational. Thank you *bow*



You’ve often heard me say that we all possess the power and creativity to create. We are creators, all of us. We can create something out of nothing. Creativity knows no bounds. We all borrow from popular culture, from history, music, art, oral tradition, crafts, design, graffiti, film, sculpture, architecture, dance; these things all know no bounds and have no keepers once they enter the public sphere. They are not static but are continuously evolving and taking on new meanings. We all traverse space and time in our different context and imbue those structures and forms in our lives with new meanings.

Or so we should. If you entered our house this week you were sure to be met by these scenarios: there was jazz playing in the background, flowing simultaneously in the corners of our minds, rousing various sensations and urging us to create our respective arts. Reinier was…

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