Where do you come from? Is it a secret? It's not so much a secret, as that it doesn't exist anymore. Not in this world. Not in your time. Or your parents'. Or theirs. Today I call Baton Rouge, Louisiana, my home. But that is not where I have always lived, or where I was born. I come from a place and time born so long ago that no one remembers where it is today. Memories of my home fade into the past like the dust that floats down that ray of sunshine onto that end table. No one has spoken of my birthplace for so long that if spoken today, the name would be unrecognizable, thought of as fantasy. After Chaos, and after the Migration, we moved here, gradually rebuilding our lives. But much of our history was lost during the Migration, and more was forgotten during the Reconstruction– forgotten or locked away. There are many scrolls and books here in the library, each telling a part of the history of my Clan. But they are in no particular order. I have scribed them as my memories flash before my eyes. Somewhere there must be the beginning. But where? Perhaps in that book over there . . . |
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What is a Mardi Gras parade without the doubloons to throw?
I’ve made some doubloon objects for DAZ Studio, or poser. The coins come in two sizes–life-size and Vicky hand size.
