Some Snippets from The World: Yeola-Camay

[eldin raigmore]

@elemtilas, it's been a long time since I've read this thread. But now, even though I've read only the most recent page, I'm impressed!
I'm especially impressed with the parts about the conlang(s).

[elemtilas]

@elemtilas, it's been a long time since I've read this thread. But now, even though I've read only the most recent page, I'm impressed!
I'm especially impressed with the parts about the conlang(s).

Thanks! Am glad a couple folks are reading this thread anyway! But in all honesty, I never considered myself much of a conlanger. Queranarran is becoming rather fun to work on, in ways that no other of my conlangs have been. More satisfying if you take my meaning. I think it's because that is more a heartlang than anything else, and I suppose it comes as no surprise that I rather favour the Daine and their close kindreds of all the folks & thedes of the World!

[elemtilas]

Today, we'll learn to count like Daine!

If you're one of those strange people that wear shoes and socks, take em off, because Daine children all learn to count on fingers and toes together!

1. minnos
2. eryon
3. nellon
4. embro
5. pancon
6. cantos
7. yacuen
8. lindo
9. sendlos
10. boadhos
11. tolcyen
12. rondo
13. ereson
14. forsetos
15. querenos
16. dromo
17. endron
18. calcas
19. orson
20. vasyero
21. minnovas minnos
22. minovas eryon
etc.
40. eryovas
60. nellovas
etc.
400. lemayas
etc.
8000. quepillio
etc.
160,000. lachanio
etc.
3,200,000. quinsistio

Spoiler:

[elemtilas]

Lambuzhao, you were actually pretty close on these farmyard beasties from the Lexember entry a few days back!

Spoiler:

Here are the hawallacu and the cruacu out in front of the houwe an namaycanye (house of beasts, or barn). Hawallacu has very very short, stiff hair and, as you can see has splotches of darker hairs on its face & forequarters. Cruacu has a tall hairy hump on his shoulders, much like a brahma bull; he actually has two horns, but as they broaden out over his snout, they kind merge into one spade-like plate perhaps a foot wide before coming down to the point. In the wild, they like rooting around for tuberous plants and roots of various kinds, and they use their long tongues to scoop up the goodness. They do also eat grasses and other similar fodder.

Our farmer is wearing a salonggong, a nice basket woven and slightly conical hat, excellent for keeping the bright Sun out of one's eyes. There are hundreds of weave patterns and shapes and sizes of salonggong, this flat conical being a very common design. He's also carrying a taggocallou, literally "big stick", though as you can plainly see, it ain't all that big really! The taggocallou is used to guide the beasties about, not beat them or severely prod them. The young fellow on the left seems to have found some kind of cattail reed and is having more fun playing with it than helping with the beasties.

The houwe an namaycanye is built mostly of brick, but plastered over to make it look nice and inviting for its inhabitants. The bronze latticework in the windows is primarily decorative, and there is no glass in the windows. If the weather's bad or cold out, there are shutters inside that can be closed, and also, they have large wooden panels that can be inserted into the window space and fastened to the frame to shut out the worst of the weather. You can see they'll need to repair a little bit of the plasterwork down by the foundation.

Spoiler:

Here is the gaoancu and her gatallaiodehers, her milking girl, taking a rest after getting a couple buckets full of rich quelendarian or milk which will either be drunk soon or else sent off to the butter & cheese makers. One thing can be said of Daine: they love their tilicueria eik maharasso, butter and cheese!

Here we're inside the houwe an namaycanye, and you can see the straw strewn over the beaten earth & clay floor as well as the decorated shutters up by the window, depicting a couple kinds of edible seeds on the panels. The gatallaio or buckets are made from beaten bronze or brass sheet and cast brass fittings. The handle is most likely a gracefully curved piece of iron -- quite fancy, really! -- and they have wooden or horn grips on them to make them easier to carry. If she has to carry the milk buckets any distance, the gatallaiodehers will attach them to a long yoke and hoist them up on her shoulders.

Our milking girl is a Turghun and, as many do, she's sporting taragunyo, a Turghun word for mendhika. It's a dark & thick pasty substance that is applied with a pointed device. Once the paste is dry & the tint is absorbed into the skin, the left-over paste just brushed off leaving a kind of ruddy to brown stain behind that will last in the skin for some time. She must be into oak leaves right now. You can't see it very clearly in the small image, but she's got a lazy left eye. As is common of such defects in all Daine kindreds, there is a compensating gift of some kind. A girl with a lazy eye will almost certainly have the gift of inner sight -- they say because the lazy eye "looks inwards rather than outwards" -- making her, apart from a dab hand at milking the gaoancanye, an accolonima, a Seer.

Some folks wonder why the Daine would bother to make a beautiful barn and a nicely crafted manger for beasts that can neither think nor talk. It's simply the case that, whenever circumstance permits, everything they make or shape, from the smallest tools up to the design and construction of their towns & clan holdings is made with beauty as well as utility in mind.

One can only wonder what that spotted cat, that mesayanacu, is stalking!

[elemtilas]

It being Monsday the ninth of Yuletide, by fortnight reckoning (or 24th of Ereyehulo by moon reckoning), let's take a look at what's happening in the Eastlands of The World these days of Yule, going on into the last quarter of the Year of the Brass Waterpot . . .

Yesterday, wasing the 23rd, was the Feast of the Genealogy of the Lord Krist. The liturgy will also include a recitation of the Genealogy. Today, the 24th, is a bit of a quiet day everywhere. Folks are getting ready for the coming days, the Twelve Nights. Tomorrow, being the 25th, is First Night, and marks several key festivals of religions and civil authorities alike. For the Kristians, of course, it is the Feast of the Nativity of the Lord Krist and, apart from the Illumination of the Mystery of the Incarnation, is also the Devotion to the Hundred Names. By tradition, the Great Liturgy begins at midnight and will probably go into the wee hours. Only the liturgy at the Great Pascha is longer and more elaborate. For the Pagans it is Yule, though it's hardly a religious festival. It's more of a social festival, and anyway, everyone else celebrates Yule as well, so it can hardly even be called properly Pagan anymore. For the Jews, most of whom have long followed the civil calendar, it's Hannukha, and while Hannukha has only eight nights, this won't stop folks from merrymaking with their neighbours and friends for a few extra days. For the followers of the Way, and for the Mithraists, it is Metranes, the Nativity of the Lord Mitras. For the Daine, it is the Feast of Winter Stars. And for everyone, it is the Winter Solstice and therefore the shortest day of the year, and the time when the Summer Queen is farthest away and the Sun is making her sojourn in the distant Southlands.

Each of the Twelve Nights is a time for making merry, visiting friends and relations and so forth, but some of the Nights have a particular significance. In Teleran, the 27th is Bishop's Dance Thursday -- one of the local quarterly festivals where the bishop is involved in a ritual often liturgical dance. At the December Quarter (the fourth quarter), the theme of the Dance is purely social and one of celebration in mid-winter. At Sunset, the people gather in the yard before the temple and the band strikes up a raucous processional. The bishop, accompanied by all the priests and accolytes (all dressed in red) dance out into the yard. Rather than the usual staff of office, the bishop carries a wand of pine with the leaves still on (never fir or holly). Once out in the yard, the priests and accolytes form two dancing rings around the bishop. When their dance is done, the music quickens and the priests dance off to be replaced by all the young boys and girls of the locality. They wear white with colourfully embroidered collars and cuffs. The twelve tallest girls each bear a green painted torch (or candle if inside); the twelve tallest boys each bear a red torch. Amongst all of them, they carry a long streamer of woven pine boughs, interspersed with holly, and they all wear wreathes of pine on their heads. Once they’ve danced around the bishop, the music changes again and everyone joins in. All along there is singing (sometimes more bawdy than others), and there is mead and beer for refreshment.

When everyone’s tired out from dancing, they retire to the prepared feast. This feast is of course one of the Twelve-Night feasts, being the twelve nights of Metranes, which itself is 25 December, the birth of Mitras. The food is rich and plentiful. The dishes often tend to the exotic, making use of animal parts or delicacies not usually seen in the diet. Some common dishes are Apple Stuffed Cow Stomach, Knuckle and Knee Stew, Queen-o-Hearts (dumpling stuffed cow heart), Pork Testicle Surprise (no one quite so surprised as the pork himself, I'm sure!). Normal foods like pies and pasties are found in abundance as well. At this feast, the bishop ladles out cider for everyone.

Some Daine have taken on certain Kristian practices. Especially in Westmarche, whose inhabitants were familliar with Mannish practices. For example, in wintertide, the Sharrundaine of that country celebrate the twelve nights of Yule by sitting around the fire weaving enchanting tales and singing long into the night. Feasting will revolve around apple stuffed boar and lamb kebobs and honey glazed baked apples and all sorts of similar goodies. The Daine have no idea why Men celebrate Yule, they being neither Kristians nor Pagans, but they do like to feast and give each other presents; so it is natural that special gifts are given at this time. They also get out into the village green and drink large quantities of mash and dance in a big circle or snaky queues around the central firepits.

In Auntimoany, Men will be celebrating Yeolas or Yule (not a strictly religious holy day anymore), which is a time for families to come together and eat themselves silly on pork and fish and all sorts of pies and cakes and make toasts to the Lord and Lady of the Sea and light bonfires all over town to call the Sun back from her holidays in the South so the fleets can go out again. Over the course of the Twelve Nights, the Nine Yeolamen, winter pixies basically, riding sledges drawn by hillcats will sweep down out of the mountains and deliver presents of toys or sweets to good children.

Naughty children, or children who didn’t make or receive new mittens on one of the twelve nights, are snatched away by the hillcats and savagely rent to tiny bits out in the mountains. They say that one can sometimes hear, up in the cold foothills, gleeful yowling and terrified screeching on twelfthnight... Tis only just, but is certainly more folkloric than coals in the sock, and no mistake!

There are Kristians in Auntimoany as well, of course, and they will hold nativity pageants (commemorating the virgin birth of the Lord Krist in a cave) before the midnight liturgy (sans lavabo); and afterward they will go home and eat themselves silly on pork and beef sausages and pies and sweets and make toasts to Our Lady of the Waves and participate in the bonfires set up all around town. They too give gifts to each other, hanging stockings upon hooks by the window in expectation of the Yeolamen. Mind you, you have to leave the window open a crack during this time, lest the Yeolamen become cross and break through the window in order to get the presents in. (My current avatar is the Yeolfather, the chief of the Nine, wearing his Cape of Night and riding a present laden sledge drawn by ferocious red-eyed and red-clawed hillcats, all done up in typical Auntimoanian portrait style.

The Daine of the town follow neither way, as they have their own, and tend to keep mostly to themselves. Though, in all honesty, the Daine of Auntimoany are like Daine everywhere else -- they never let any excuse for a feast go unfestivised -- so they too will eat themselves silly (prefering kababs and meat pies to the lumps of roasted haunch the Men perfer), dance around the bonfires and enjoy the pageants all around. The Yeolamen seem to avoid Daine houses. Perhaps because they don't wear socks.

But other Daine, of course, do not celebrate such Kristian holy days. The Daine of the Holy Hills have no truck with Mannish nonsense and stick to traditional Daine wintertime entertainments of storytelling and song without all the dancing outside in the cold.

The 29th is Fifth Night, and the Feast of the Holy Infants. You know, the ones as had their heads dashed in by some old king. The 30th is the Feast of the Repose of the Holy Evangelist and Sharma Master Yohannam. Naturally, his gospel is preeminent at this time of year, it starting out with the Illumination of the Mystery of the Incarnation.

The 6th and 7th of Afteryehulo are also pretty big days: the 6th is Twelfth Night and also the Feast of the Three Astrologers and the Illumination in the River Jordan; and the Feast of the Last Night (of Yule). On Twelfth Night, not only does Yeolfather make one last appearance, but the Three Star Kings also make their (one and only) appearance, also bearing gifts. Generally these will involve three different kinds of treats, an aromatic and sticky sweet to represent the francinsence, a bitter sweet to represent the myrrh and a salty sweet confection, often wrapped up in gold-foil paper, to represent the gold. The 7th marks the end of Yuletide with the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord Krist.

[elemtilas]

yan-ateh yeryurovueriloste :

• na-lalayteyastevehers-an-remanimonye eik dro-gasavehers-an-nimayellô
  and-we-salem shayanang
  na lai le-salendi suur-salendi canil
  yan-we-ateh tarandireng

yan-ateh yeryurovueriloste :

• dro ne and-moravehers-an-pueltangan
  yan-we-ateh shayanang
  le ne and-woworchravehers
  yan-we-ateh sarnuwandrondalcarhrteng

yan-ateh yeryurovueriloste :

• lostun yan-salendi runel caliyeris
  li pandocorthin dramatares yan-na-ateh rurustang

I evergrieve in joy and mirth:

• they watch mothers rejoicing and daughters playing
  yet I too long sought and ever shall seek them in fruitless search

I evergrieve in joy and mirth:

• for the blacks of starless night I eversee
  for amid gales and storms I evertread

I evergrieve in joy and mirth:

• there those things are for your eyes
  yet near at hand blind I stumble

[eldin raigmore]

@elemtilas, your last several contributions to your thread here, are beautiful, as well as creative.

[elemtilas]

@elemtilas, your last several contributions to your thread here, are beautiful, as well as creative.

Thank you! When I came across that word, yeryurovuin, the poem just wouldn't rest until it got out & written down.

[elemtilas]

Swesware

waylly na-moccanye surya pwe-herí sweswarocceng
sweswarenem Yeoles and en-derí harachanweste
le talghonye nimam and na-derí calamuravehers
esat endi sayano melle pwe-remanimonye wesenyas!

soft the cloak she snowed
in snow is Gea shrouded
in fur-blanket is the girl sleeping
until her her Mother awakens!

[gestaltist]

I like the poems a lot. I may not be commenting much anymore, but I keep reading your thread and enjoying it, elemtilas.

[elemtilas]

I like the poems a lot. I may not be commenting much anymore, but I keep reading your thread and enjoying it, elemtilas.

Thank you! Please do continue to comment & ask questions! They are always very helpful, and often open up new doors of exploration.

[elemtilas]

A Daine story I wrote quite a few years ago now:

One time, Noruma Wokarina was wandering in the woods beyond his home. He was a fine, good looking warrior boy with a beautiful face and a strong body. He wore a racca of brown deerhide around his waist and a mocka of white deer across his shoulders, its head and fine rack of antlers perched upon his own head of light brown hair that flowed down in braids and locks to his ankles. He had with him a stout fighting staff, a long and straight bronze dagger and a short bow and case with nine arrows, each as long and straight as the other and tipped with a sharpened bone head.

Noruma came to a most curious place in the woods, a place he'd never seen before and a place he'd never heard of in all the stories ever told round the fires of his kinfolk. Though the day had dawned warm and sunny, he found himself in a darkling place of menacing trees and a cold, clammy wind buffeted him. He came to a clearing and saw there a tahaid, a kind of stone fountain. It was deeply engraved long ago, but he could not make out any of the marks, for it had long been overgrown by thick, black ivy. For all the wind blowing, the water in the basin was placid, unaffected and clean looking. Paying no heed to the great ring of stones that lined the clearing in the trees, Noruma suddenly felt a great thirst and a need to drink deeply. There was a bowl chained to the fount, a carved skull, lined with bronze, and he took it up in his right hand. Thanking the spirit of the fountain, he dipped the bowl into the deep cold water. But the instant the still water was disturbed, the cold breeze blew up into a bitter gale and thick black clouds thundered over the pressing trees, whipping their black-green leaves about.

Through the darkness, Noruma could just make out a boy coming towards him from a path through the trees; he too was a warrior, and his armor was of bone and bronze and the skull of a wolf was fixed upon his bronze helmet and he carried a bronze sword. His arm and leg guards were silvered bronze and he wore a thick leather apron with bronze and bone plates around his waist. Someone had stabbed him in his chest and the blood ran down his stong body, mingling with the water Noruma had spilled upon the stones.

"I am Rinthala, guardian of this land whose peace you have disturbed and whose folk you have destroyed! You must prepare to die!" And with that, he drew his sword of bronze and leapt at Noruma.

"Sir!" cried Noruma; "I haven't destroyed any country or disturbed anyone's peace! Why are you attacking me!?"

But it was too late for words: Rinthala, his sword aimed at Noruma's neck had already leapt! Knowing his hunting knife would be no use against his enemy's sword, he brought his staff around in a powerful arc, its weighted end smashing into Rinthala's shoulder. His sword missed its mark and he toppled into the stonework of the fountain. But the blow did not finish him off, for Rinthala snatched up his sword and with a deep growl leapt to his feet and attacked Noruma all the more furiously.

All that morning the two fought under roaring black and green clouds, flashes of lightning rending the sky. Though Noruma had suffered no serious wounds from Rinthala's sword, he was bleeding from several smaller cuts. Yet it was the latter who had suffered the most, for not only was the great stab in his breast still bleeding, but Noruma had landed many powerful blows upon him and the guardian of that strange land stood panting, nearly spent, yet in no way ready to give up the struggle! Just when Noruma thought his opponent must collapse, he raised his sword and made one last great effort to destroy his sworn enemy.
Noruma was still mostly unhurt and easily raised his staff up and sent the weighted end up it straight into Rinthala's throat, sending him to the ground gasping for breath, for his throat was crushed and destroyed. At last Rinthala's body relaxed and lay motionless. Noruma knelt down at his side and leaned over the still body. He could feel yet a weak throbbing in the other's veins. He collected up his staff and the other's sword, then picked Rinthala up in his arms and carried back along the road he had seen the warrior appear from, hoping it would lead him to his kin. It was strange, though, as he walked through the dark and storm wracked country, Rinthala seemed to have no weight at all and for all he was quite tall and wore stout armor, he was no trouble to bear along the leaf strewn road.

Though the storm had passed, Noruma could see now what a devastation it had caused. Everywhere black trees were overthrown and houses and villages alike were thrown down, and people stood among the burning and smoldering ruins, trembling, unsure what had just happened or what would yet become of them.

At last, the road led to the ruined gate of what was once a tall and mighty stronghold, though all was now tumbled ruins and ash blowing in the cool breeze of morning. The shreds of the storm clouds were now blowing away into the North again and a warm air replaced it fromo the South. Noruma entered the stronghold and brought the body of the dying guardian to the great circle of grey and dead grass that stood in the middle of the place. There was a stonework akin to the tahaid he had seen earlier, though this was oblong and its top was a single slab of smooth stone. He laid the body upon it, arranging the sword at his side, his mind racing to seek for some explanation he could offer the queen of this place, for he felt sure the boy's kin would seek their revenge upon him!

But that was not to be, for from the ruins off to the left came a group of weary and bedraggled folk, yet they walked with a high dignity. In the lead was a tall boy wearing a great hat of black bear fur and green and black and red feathers; around his waist was a racca of undyed wool and a great ring of silver was around his neck while in his left hand was a wand of grey wood. Following his was a keen eyed and stern faced girl, white was her hair and white her feathers and white her skin but her eyes were black and they pierced Noruma and she could see into into his heart. White was her fur cape and the wool racca round her waist. Black and green vines were painted upon her breast and a circlet of grey twigs was upon her head. She was clearly the queen of this country. Four warriors followed, armed like the guardian who now lay dead upon the stone tahaid. They dragged between them a figure bound in black and grey vines that prevented all movement of arms or wings and hampered the legs and feet as well. Whoever this was, the guards half dragged the poor struggling, crawling creature behind them and through the dust and ash of the ruined place.

The boy spoke while the queen and the guards looked on with unveiled hatred: "Noruma! Do not look so surprised: your name and your deed are known to us. And you have seen the work of your craft as you bore the dying Rinthala hither. Our people are destroyed and scattered, homeless and adrift; the spirit of our queen is broken and her guardian lies dead at your hand!"

He motioned violently to the guards, who hoisted the struggling figure up by the vines round its neck and threw it at Noruma's feet. The tall boy spoke once more, spitting the words at Noruma: "Your queen. Your land. You are charged with guarding them both with your own life, even as Rinthala sacrificed himself for our queen and land!" And with that, he snapped his wand in half, dropped the broken pieces and turned away from the two. The queen turned as well, the circlet of grey twigs falling from her head as she went, and all her people began to follow her, melting into the dark woodlands beyond the stronghold. Noruma knelt down over the struggling figure and put his knife to the black creeping vines. They sprung away at its touch, as if they could not bear the feel of his bronze blade upon them. The figure was a naked girl, dirty and beaten, bruised and cut and abused in every way. She stood up, a little shakily and Noruma wrapped his mocca around her waist.

She steadied herself against his shoulders and looked around. She turned her face, framed with unkempt straw colored hair, towards Noruma and her light brown eyes looked up into his. She said: "I know this place. It was an age ago, but I know it well. And I'm sure I remember you as well, Noruma, my guardian. You went away from me, and now you have come back. And look! Our people begin to return home again!"

Noruma turned to look along the broad swath of greening grass around the stone tahaid, and he could see a wandering folk come marching up the long road through the greening countryside beyond. They were singing merrily under a blue sky and a warming Sun. They were home again at last.

Spoiler:

Noruma = Spring
tahaid = a (folklorically magical) stone pedestal; some are water basins set within a ring of standing stones, others are plain pedestals; many are deeply carven with runes of power and vines of binding; all are perilous to approach and dire consequences befall the one who disturbs these ancient stoneworks unwittingly!
Rinthala = Winter

[elemtilas]

Here is an image of what the musical notation used by the Daine of Auntimoany looks like:

Spoiler:

Each glyph is a combination of scale interval (rather than absolute note name) and a rough indication of duration. This system allows for considerable interpretation by a player. The usual instrument type used by these Daine is a kind of flute. They make many configurations of flutes and whistles, but the most usual have either five or six holes (and thus naturally play some pentatonic or diatonic scale), though it is the precise hole placement that will determine the mode(s) a given instrument is best suited for.

Here is the same tune in standard notation:

Spoiler:

The tune itself is Mereyelle, and is a lament for the loss of a young girl by that name. Daine music of this sort is not terribly baroque in its ornamentation, but there several places various flutters and breathiness could be inserted.

The mode of this tune is called varant and corresponds with our dorian.

[gestaltist]

Very impressive elemtilas. You are a man of many talents, I see. You don't have a recording of this melody, by any chance?

[alynnidalar]

An excellent story! I liked it quite a lot.

[elemtilas]

Very impressive elemtilas. You are a man of many talents, I see. You don't have a recording of this melody, by any chance?

Mind you, Sir James Galway I am not, but if you wish to assail your ears with a bit of sonic torture, go here and scroll down to the last paragraph about music. There's a link to the sound file there. Frathwiki seems to allow only .ogg files, and those don't play on all programs. Real Player works - Windows Media Player does not.

[elemtilas]

An excellent story! I liked it quite a lot.

Thank you! I certainly can't wait for Spring to come along and defeat once more the Winter Queen's champion!

[eldin raigmore]

One time, Noruma Wokarina was wandering in the woods beyond his home. He was a fine, good looking warrior boy with a beautiful face and a strong body. He wore a racca of brown
….
countryside beyond. They were singing merrily under a blue sky and a warming Sun. They were home again at last.

I liked that.

Spoiler:

Noruma = Spring
tahaid = a (folklorically magical) stone pedestal; some are water basins set within a ring of standing stones, others are plain pedestals; many are deeply carven with runes of power and vines of binding; all are perilous to approach and dire consequences befall the one who disturbs these ancient stoneworks unwittingly!
Rinthala = Winter

(especially that part.)

[elemtilas]

Deserts of Cron. The Deserts of Cron are a hidden land rumored to lie somewhere in the middles of Eosphora, south of Siviria. Or rather, the entry road that leads to this hidden land is to be found in those regions. For, while Cron itself is a rocky and sandy land without any kind of oasis, it actually nestles within a verdant grassland crossed by many streams and dotted with woodlands and hillcountry.

It is here in Cron that Father Time inhabits his palace Saravande, where he keeps watch over the Ages. Some believe that Father Time was responsible for cracking open the Egg of Potential, thus giving inadvertent existence to the universe and its chief powers and eldest races. For example, many Zoroastrusians believe that Asura Mazda and Angra Manyu are coëqual twins who came into being when Father Time split the primordial athom. Others hold that he did this in partnership with Mother Eternity who also inhabits Saravande.

Few travellers find themselves upon the road heading towards Cron, and fewer still endure the long journey to Saravande. Some go to seek knowledge of future or past events, or else the nature of Time itself, and still others to seek for some lost mathom squirreled away in the vast attics and basements of Saravande. Of all the mathoms, one in especial is worthy of being sought out, namely that horologue that hight the Horologue of Wonder, for upon winding it, it plays the most wonderful music and tiny figures whirl and dance and enact the most marvellous of plays within the tiny stages on the mechanisms face. Also there one may find the Seat of Story and there hear tales wonderful to hear. Of those who have survived the return trip out of Cron, they reveal but little of their travails, and few would believe them if they were told! --Chorography

[gestaltist]

I need to get back to reading Chorography... I loved this snippet.