Stories podcast

Player FM - Internet Radio Done Right

15 subscribers

تمت الإضافة منذ قبل three أعوام

المحتوى المقدم من Francis Rosenfeld. يتم تحميل جميع محتويات البودكاست بما في ذلك الحلقات والرسومات وأوصاف البودكاست وتقديمها مباشرة بواسطة Francis Rosenfeld أو شريك منصة البودكاست الخاص بهم. إذا كنت تعتقد أن شخصًا ما يستخدم عملك المحمي بحقوق الطبع والنشر دون إذنك، فيمكنك اتباع العملية الموضحة هنا https://ar.player.fm/legal.

Species Unite

1
Trevor Ritland: The Golden Toad 34:01

منذ 5 weeks34:01

التشغيل لاحقا

قوائم

إعجاب

احب

34:01

I think you could probably go back and track the stages of grief, probably that is what I went through. But I think if you do it right, you end up at acceptance. And that's where I ended up. And that's not to say that I've fully accepted the idea that the golden toad is extinct. Personally, I do still hold out hope that it could still be out there in those forests." - Trevor Ritland This conversation is with Trevor Ritland, who—along with his twin brother Kyle—authored The Golden Toad . The book chronicles their remarkable journey into Costa Rica’s cloud forest, once home to hundreds of brilliant golden toads that would emerge for just a few weeks each year—until, one day, they vanished without a trace. What began as a search for a lost species soon became something much more profound: a confrontation with ecological grief, a meditation on hope, and a powerful call to protect the natural world while we still can. Links: SpeciesUnite.com Kyle and Trevor: https://kyleandtrevor.com/ Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/adventureterm/ Goodreads - https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/222249677-the-golden-toad Amazon - https://www.amazon.com/Golden-Toad-Ecological-Mystery-Species/dp/163576996…

Stories

منزل السلاسل•Feed

Fiction

173 حلقات

#Audio Drama #France #francisrosenfeld

Stories

15 subscribers

updated منذ يومين

منزل السلاسل•Feed

Fiction

173 حلقات

#Audio Drama #France #francisrosenfeld

كل الحلقات

Stories

1
The Gates of Horn and Ivory - Chapter 9.3 - The Unreality 9:48

منذ يومين9:48

9:48

Hades always felt empty after Persephone saw the returning souls off into the world. To allay her sadness, she went to the Hall of Scrolls, to reread what the Moirae had in store for them. Hades’s palace was vast, and not many people knew that, because very few had been allowed past the sumptuous rooms at the front, which were intended for receiving visitors. It had libraries and vaults, salons and dining halls, and since his marriage with Persephone, interior gardens. Since Hades didn’t have weather, half of the spaces were open to the outdoors, facing colonnades and atria, fountains of living waters and magical trees. Everything had spirit in the Underworld, and Persephone often lost track of time talking to the trees in the open courtyards, or the flowers in her daffodil garden. The latter was a gift from Hades, who worried she might miss the meadows of her maiden days, a garden bursting with daffodils perpetually in bloom.…

Stories

1
The Gates of Horn and Ivory - Chapter 9.2 Joyfully Reborn 9:34

منذ 9 أيام9:34

9:34

Life doesn’t change. Sure the technologies advance and the day-to-day gets easier, but people aren’t fundamentally different from how they were centuries ago. The same emotions and drives push them on their paths, and the same disappointments sour their spirits. Persephone tended to her souls like a gardener tends to his or her plants, watching them get born, live and die, forget their experiences and come back to life the next time around, like seeds sprinkled on the ground. It is human hubris to imagine there is a purpose to this repetitive endeavor. Just like is the case with plants, there is no purpose for them to exist other than to perpetuate themselves. Life wants to continue and slowly evolve. If there was a greater purpose under Olympus, it was too high for anyone to understand it, and it most likely did not involve building mighty empires and fighting bloody wars, the empty vanities and illusions of power that die with their creators.…

Stories

1
The Gates of Horn and Ivory, Chapter 9.1 Inspired 10:18

منذ 16 يومًا10:18

10:18

Every four years in the middle of summer, the mortals gathered to celebrate the muses in a gentle valley at the feet of Mount Helicon. The nine daughters of Mnemosyne, they weren’t your usual goddesses; they were a gift to humankind. Nobody talked about them as such, out of fear these wonders that fired the human mind to create masterpieces might be taken away, to leave mankind only the toiling and the wars, a drab existence made of hopeless and uninspiring days, all the same. The muses were born of the goddess of memory and the highest of the gods, a splendid metaphor for the mind’s union with the sublime. And, just as happens with the human minds, their relationships and connections with other gods and with the mortals got complicated from there. Unexpected friendships and mentoring roles emerged, and if one wanted to understand them, one had to know their whole family history. Pegasus himself had struck the ground with its hoof to open their source of inspiration, the stream of Hippocrene. Their mother, Mnemosyne, the keeper of the fount of memories in Hades, was Hypnos’s neighbor and friend. Remembering is the opposite of forgetting, and therefore, it embodies the same concept. They are two halves of the same whole. Every object in a universe of duality must have an opposite, and the two opposing elements are intrinsically the same essence. They are what is, reflecting itself into what it is not.…

Stories

1
The Gates of Horn and Ivory - Chapter 8.3 Through a Veil, Darkly 9:51

منذ 23 يومًا9:51

9:51

Those blessed with the gift of prophecy form a small but very special community. They instinctively seek each other’s presence, they are drawn to those who are similarly blessed. If they are mortal, they become oracles and seers whose wisdom is sought and revered, and people travel from far away to seek their counsel. They are the living vessels of the gods, who speak through them in cryptic messages, which are only understood in retrospect. It’s not that the gods were trying to make their teachings obscure, or that they even cared if they were. People can’t form concepts about things that don’t yet exist. Immortal prophets like Apollo, Phoebe, the Moirae, doled their wisdom onto the world below, speaking through their official oracles, like those of Delphi, or Cumae, who were famous and revered and to whom people dedicated temples and compounds, theaters and springs. And then there were the quiet visionaries, who saw a lot but kept it to themselves, not wanting to put any more strain on the greater order of things than it was already under, and staying out of the affairs of the mortals, whose misinterpretations of godly wisdom were a constant source of disaster and false hope.…

Stories

1
The Gates of Horn and Ivory - Chapter 8.2 Strife 9:58

منذ 30 يومًا9:58

9:58

On the westernmost edge of the Oceanus, which spans the vast distance between the world of the living and the underworld, there is a splendid garden, constantly bathed in the glow of the sunset. The garden belongs to Hera, a wedding gift from her grandmother, and wonderful apple trees with golden fruit grow there, under the jealous guard of the dragon Ladon, an offspring of the Typhon, and the rather distracted oversight of the Hesperides, the daughters of night and of the evening star. The legendary orchard was far from the real world, in both location and appearance, and because of its priceless bounty, a perpetual temptation for those driven by greed. When someone broke in to steal the apples, the circle of displeasure, complaint and requests for retribution invariably closed in the Underworld, a constant source of annoyance for Hades, who was expected to do something about it. “Who was it this time?” Persephone asked. “It was one of ours, actually. Eris decided to take it upon herself and plot against Hera. You remember Hera, don’t you?” “Vividly,” Persephone replied. Hera took exception to the smallest slight, never forgave an offense, and always made sure to drag the entire Olympus into her drama, satisfied only when she was the center of attention.…

Stories

1
The Gates of Horn and Ivory - Chapter 8.1 The Blessed Isles 9:36

منذ 5 weeks9:36

9:36

Persephone stood tall on the bow of the ship, against the breeze. Behind her, the fortune’s chosen, the ones who managed to navigate its treacherous waters through three lifetimes in a row, without reproach, were gazing towards the islands in the distance with apprehension and awe, not yet able to believe their luck, eyes moist for what they left behind. Lost for words, they feared the promise of this new and wonderful existence was just a mirage which would dissipate the second they stopped believing it. Hades stood next to his wife, like a symbolic shelter against the winds. He always attended these happy occasions when mortals earned themselves the right to perpetual bliss. Also, he loved the Fortunate Isles, which he rarely found the time to visit, with his schedule as full as it always was, and besides, he had promised Persephone. The islands were two, so close to each other one could think them a single land mass. They weren’t that far from the shore, but a whole world removed in terms of privilege and grace, even compared to the Elysian Fields.…

Stories

1
The Gates of Horn and Ivory - Chapter 7.3 Behind the Bronze Gates 10:20

منذ 6 weeks10:20

10:20

There was much sound and fury in Hades’ chambers the next morning, the clamor of many people speaking in anger, and above them all Persephone recognized the voice of Zeus. She got dressed in a hurry and sneaked into the anteroom of the large conference hall where Hades was involved in some very heated negotiations with an entire delegation of Olympians, which, as an extraordinary circumstance, included Zeus himself. “We’re doing everything in our power to retrieve him safely. As I told you, no effort is being spared.” “But how was it possible, brother? I thought you ruled this kingdom supreme! Just command your minions to deliver him at the gates.” “If the Hecatonchires were commandable, you wouldn’t need to keep them in Tartarus. They’re trained to some degree,” Hades replied, “but definitely don’t exhibit the level of obedience you seem to expect.” “So, you’re telling me there is no hope and you can’t do anything about this?” “Quite the opposite, brother. I just told you every effort is being made.” “Yeah. That means you can’t do anything about it. I’m so disappointed in you, Hades. I entrusted you with the fate of one of our finest, and now he’s lost in Tartarus with no expectations of rescue.”…

Stories

1
The Gates of Horn and Ivory - Chapter 7.2 The Cave of Hypnos 9:48

منذ 7 weeks9:48

9:48

When she wanted to take a break from her daily activities, Persephone wandered along the banks of the Lethe, under the slender branches of the willows, which arched to touch its waters, and walked all the way to the cave of Hypnos. She went there mostly to pick poppies, whose flowers surrounded the quiet realm of the god of sleep. The bright red blooms glowed from afar in the perpetual sunset, a bucolic image whose beauty was worthy of a painter’s canvas: a small tributary of the river Lethe was dancing between large boulders atop a rocky bed, surrounded by poppies, lavender and chamomile, and other soothing herbs, in the shadow of large linden trees, perpetually in bloom. The fragrance surrounding the place, it had no match in existence, not even in the gardens of Olympus. The flowers were always swarmed by bees, the goddess’s faithful companions, who built their hives in nearby tree hollows, which were dripping with melting wax, amber, and honey in the warmth of the sunset. The softest grass grew on the banks of the stream, tall and bright green, so delicate its texture seemed unreal, and even its touch was barely felt under the fingers. The little stream bubbled along its winding banks and entered the cave, getting lost in its depths.…

Stories

1
The Gates of Horn and Ivory - Chapter 7.1 Politik 10:17

منذ 8 weeks10:17

10:17

She rushed home, crossing the bridge over the Acheron, past the elm of false dreams, through the mucky banks of the Vale of Mourning and the orchard to get home faster, so she had to stop and shake the pumice dust off her sandals before she entered the palace. Hermes was waiting in the loggia overlooking the gardens, impatient, as always. “Great! You’re here.” “Good morning to you too, cousin.” “Aha. Yeah. Listen. The cave of Cumae gets water in it every time there is a storm; it needs a new levee to fend off tidal flooding. And consolidation. That project had sat on the shelf way too long, if you ask me.” “So, what’s the hold-up?” “The Cumaean Sibyl thinks making any changes equals blaspheming Apollo. She barricaded herself in the cave and refuses to prophesy. She threatened to burn the last three books, too. To tell you the truth, I think it’s a shake-down. Greedy wretch’s demands for coin never cease.” “Well, look on the bright side: she can’t burn them if they’re underwater. Not that it would be an improvement.” “Don’t joke, cousin, it’s serious. The woman is on a mission.”…

Stories

1
The Gates of Horn and Ivory - Chapter 6.3 Land of Dreams 9:59

منذ 9 weeks9:59

9:59

Hades is a water realm. Surrounded by Oceanus, it’s crisscrossed by rivers and streams whose rash and unsettled currents can be heard in the background almost everywhere. From the quiet Lethe meandering between boulders in Hypnos’s cave, careful not to awaken him, to the echoes of the Styx, muffled as it flows through underground caves, the sights and sounds of water are everywhere, sometimes soothing, sometimes unsettling. The rushing waters of the underworld carved intricate stone tracery and painted the rocks in spectacular hues. They flowed slowly through sleepy valleys only to abandon themselves suddenly to grand waterfalls, diving into bottomless chasms nobody ever dared explore. The perpetual sunsets painted their watery curtains with rainbows, and sometimes, when the light hit them at just the right angle, it illuminated them from behind. The fiery river Phlegethon crossed the real waters sometimes, and their mingling gave rise to sharp hisses and clouds of steam, and turned its incandescent lava first to embers, and then to black stone. The placid river Lethe branched into a delta when it reached the land of dreams, seeping countless rivulets and streams through its open fields. Those who’d been brought to Hades through the gate of the sun could be deceived they were still alive when they reached this familiar landscape, only to be set straight when it changed without warning, lulling them into rationalizations in order to deceive them again. The spirits always found an explanation for why their world stopped making sense. Any explanation but the real one.…

Stories

1
The Gates of Horn and Ivory - Chapter 6.2 The Patterns of Reality 9:55

منذ 10 weeks9:55

9:55

Persephone sneaked out into the gardens the next morning, grateful to have a few quiet moments to reconnect with her plant companions. Everything had spirit in the Underworld, even the rocks and the streams, and her beloved trees were the goddess’s most trusted friends. The poplars flittered in the twilight, their gold leaves shimmering in ways which would have gratified Demeter, who always thought her daughter’s attire too plain for a goddess and often urged the latter to show off her riches. Persephone didn’t need to impress in the nether realms, where even the leaves of the trees in her garden were made of pure gold. She grabbed a handful of the soil beneath her feet, picked out the glossiest onyx, obsidian and jet pebbles to place in her little knapsack and let the rest fall to the ground. The muses had inspired her to create a mosaic that morning, and she was on a mission to pick the most colorful gemstones for its motifs.…

Stories

1
The Gates of Horn and Ivory - Chapter 6.1 Going Home 10:02

منذ 11 weeks10:02

10:02

She said goodbye to her mother at the mouth of the cave of Taenarum, crumbling under the weight of her sorrow and tears, and harboring guilt over feeling relieved when she finally stepped into its dark depths and its silence. Hecate was supposed to meet her and lead the way, but Persephone had walked that path so many times she really didn’t need the dark goddess to guide her. She grabbed a lit torch from the wall and started her descent, feeling a little spacey and out of reality, and wondered whether this is how all those postulants she appeared to in dreams must have felt. The path looked the same as theirs too, something she had never noticed before, careful as she was not to fall behind Hecate’s quick stride. Everything was dark and quiet, so quiet. She’d forgotten how still the Underworld could be, compared to the world of the living, where the noise never ceased, not even in solitude. The narrow path swept between large rock formations, who had been shaped and carved by underground streams, and their constant flow had covered them in rainbow layers of reds, ochres, blues and whites, almost like somebody had painted them on purpose. The path was covered in soft silt. Persephone had to guess this narrow tunnel must have been a riverbed at some point, which now dried up. Its silky consistency cradled her feet without a sound, making her footsteps softer than those of a cat.…

Stories

1
The Gates of Horn and Ivory - Chapter 5.3 Thesmophoria III 9:21

منذ 12 weeks9:21

9:21

To say that everybody woke up the next day nursing a headache would be an understatement. The wine and the herbs left a parting gift - a vicious nausea, amplified to epic levels by the main part of the ceremony. The Antleriai, the wailers, descended into the Megara pits, specially outfitted with snakes for the occasion, to retrieve decomposed pieces of the pig sacrifices, which were then placed on the altars to be blessed by the goddess, and then taken home, as they were believed to offer bounty and protection to the crops when buried in the fields. The only silver lining of the previous day’s overindulgence was one couldn’t be sure anymore whether the smell of rotten meat was real or the result of a massive hangover. Through the headaches and bleary-eyed confusion of the morning after, the celebrations continued, however, libations, dances, obscene language and all, and actually helped the participants feel better, because it provided them with a cure in the guise of the hair of the dog that bit them. The third day was all about fertility, and honoring Kalligeneia, the goddess of childbirth, for protecting those in labor, nursing mothers and the well-being of their infants. They never missed out on enlisting Demeter and Persephone’s help in the matter as well, since childbirth, the most perilous endeavor any woman would ever go through, and which cost so many their lives, needed all the help it could get.…

Stories

1
The Gates of Horn and Ivory - Chapter 5.2 The Thesmophoria II 9:28

منذ 13 weeks9:28

9:28

A mournful song and the unmistakable scent of winter filled the mist the next morning, when the festival attendants woke up to an eerie landscape. The meadow grasses were covered in a thin dusting of ice, and their dried flower heads, which the freezing rain had pounded relentlessly overnight, were encased in transparent globes of ice that acted like magnifying glass to enhance every detail of their intricate structures. The most beautiful among them, the latest flowers of the season, had been caught by the sudden freeze while still at the peak of their bloom, and the icy shells displayed their half opened blossoms like works of art, like summer frozen in time, insulated by a magical crystal ball from the harshness of the dark season. Towards the morning the cold and the rain gave way to a plushy fog, thick like soup, which caressed the frozen wonderland with ghostly fingers and muffled the sounds. The warmth melted the surfaces of the ice globes, making them glisten in the low light, and look polished like mirrors. Nature was so quiet in the fog, a soft, comforting and unnatural silence which reminded Persephone of home.…

Stories

1
The Gates of Horn and Ivory - Chapter 5.1 Thesmophoria I 9:25

منذ 14 weeks9:25

9:25

“Have you prepared yourself, daughter? You have to set an example for all the married women: fast for nine days, refrain from the pleasures of the flesh and purify yourself to be worthy of the Goddess’s blessing.” “Yes, mother. Although I find it a bit ironic that I need to prepare myself so I’d be worthy of my own blessing.” “You are a role model, daughter. Everyone is looking to you for guidance. Among the Attic women, you should be the strictest follower of the ritual preparations.” ‘Shouldn’t be that hard,’ Persephone thought. ‘We only eat ambrosia, and I haven’t even seen my beloved in months. What is ambrosia made from, anyway? I hope it’s a proper lenten meal.’ “Have you chosen your pig, dear?” Demeter asked innocently, reminding her daughter of the unavoidable and loathsome drudgery of sacrificing some poor creature, which seemed to be mandatory for every celebration, be it of joy or of mourning. “Why don’t you choose one for me, mother?” She smiled back, waiting for a snarky retort, but her mother was in a good mood, so she took her daughter’s bratty comment in stride. “I wouldn’t dream of making choices for you. You’re a grown woman, mistress of your own fate. Just make sure to pick a fat one this time. The ladies seem to believe it makes a difference in the abundance of next year’s harvest.”…

Stories

1
The Gates of Horn and Ivory - Chapter 4.2 Kore 8:51

منذ 15 weeks8:51

8:51

“Mother, aren’t we going the wrong way?” she asked Demeter when the ship left the shore and started following the sun due west instead of sailing towards the sunrise. Demeter smiled, but said nothing. “Where are we going?” “Sicily.” “Why?” “You’ll see, the latter smiled in anticipation.” Anthesphoria was a festival of flowers, and as such, dedicated to Persephone, or, more precisely, to her incarnation as the maiden, Kore. The mind creates sophisticated models to get a grip on reality, abstract structures which are often personified to make it easier for it to relate to them. These models may not make sense rationally, they are archetypal, and are useful in interpreting the world in the absence of knowledge. They build stories to explain the unseen patterns of nature, which are experienced, but not understood. The archetype of the Goddess kept shifting, depending on its symbolic meaning.…

Stories

1
The Gates of Horn and Ivory - Chapter 4.1 A Trip to Magna Grecia 9:28

منذ 16 weeks9:28

9:28

The delegation left early in the morning, poised to reach the shores of Magna Graecia at sunrise. Everywhere else Persephone was just another goddess of the Pantheon, but in Locri, she was the goddess. Two majestic temples were raised for her worship, and the city had bestowed upon her the additional honor of being the protector of childbirth, thus managing to intrude upon the attributions of both Hera and Artemis, and therefore offend them both. Persephone tried to suppress a smile, and figured out if any of the lands of Hellas were going to have the gumption to question the gods, they had to be Locri. The city had been founded by the Achaeans and was protected by Poseidon; its citizens were aristocratic and never backed down from a fight. Their sophisticated, unbendable laws, and their appreciation for athletics, culture and the arts, were supported by the enviable wealth of their thriving commerce. The women of Locri were very special to Persephone, who favored them as much as they did her. They were independent and powerful, undaunted by their men’s ambitions, and they didn’t indulge the whims and demands of the latter. They were masters and administrators of their own homes and wealth, acting like earthly goddesses in their own right, and so they didn’t aspire to gain the favor of Aphrodite, and her enchanted binds of desire, or Hera, the ideal obedient wife, or either one of the virgin goddesses, who had to forgo marriage in order to enjoy their freedom.…

Stories

1
Chapter 3.3 - Summer Festivals 9:51

منذ 17 weeks9:51

9:51

“Welcome back, daughter,” her mother greeted her, all smiles, at the mouth of the cave. Persephone felt a little stiff from sleeping on the ground and still a little turned around after traveling back and forth twice between worlds within the boundaries of one night. “I take it you had a pleasant journey home,” Demeter continued, way too cheerful so early in the morning. “How is your husband?” “He’s well, thank you,” Persephone mumbled, squinting from the crude light. “I take it your followers are still looking for you,” her mother pointed to the group, which meandered through the forest and valleys carrying torches in the middle of the day. “I wouldn’t deprive them of the excitement of finding me, eventually. Let’s give them a few hours. I have a few things to tend to in the meantime.” “Your husband gave you homework, dear?” “No. It’s a favor I promised a friend. In fact, I was wondering if you’d be able to help. It’s a plant.” “For Proteus.” When you spend so much time switching between realities, whether it’s from death to life or from sleep to consciousness, you are bound to cross paths with the shapeshifting god of the unconscious, whose gift of prophecy and ability to alter the properties of matter were unmatched, even among the gods.…

Stories

1
Chapter 3.2 - The Eleusinian Mysteries 9:09

منذ 18 weeks9:09

9:09

The communicants started their descent into the depths of the earth, with nothing to light their way other than the high priestess’s torch. The latter was tall, and her pallid members stood in stark contrast with her long hair, black as night, which flowed freely and draped around her shoulders like a mantle, and the black chiton, tied around her waist three times with a thin golden girdle. She wore a tri-faced mask, which wrapped around her head, hiding her identity, and on her temples, the silver horns of the crescent moon: the symbol of Hecate. As they continued their descent, the trail became narrower, sweeping between large boulders, overgrown with tree roots in places, its quietude disrupted by the sounds of an underground river flowing nearby. The supplicants’ faces looked carved in stone, they all look the same, as if their spirits have left them. They seemed unaware of each other’s presence, their fixated stare darting into the darkness before them, as if something powerful inside it pulled them into its unknown depths, a ghostly army of the dead whose footsteps were muffled by the soft silt on the path. All of them had partaken in the ceremonial drink, a hot wine mixed with herbs and spices which felt like liquid fire running through their blood, a paradoxically still fire, bringing peace beyond understanding. Their spirits turned inward, leaving their earthly shells vacant and making them look as if they were sleepwalking down the path.…

Stories

1
Chapter 2.3 - The Moirae 10:27

منذ 19 weeks10:27

10:27

The world is surface, a shimmery veil of illusion, woven from gossamer and dreams by the Moirae to give the unbound consciousness a home. Behind this elusive veil, the fundamental action principles of existence, known only to the gods, continuously transform reality, sometimes unseen, sometimes picking at its back and putting waves through its diaphanous fabric. Its visible side glistens like a mirror, reflecting any consciousness that is there to see it, its ever changing imagery shifting to harmonize with it, an exquisite mirage, poised to fool the senses. It looks solid and permanent enough, but it’s not, and if you touch it, it shrivels under your fingers like a mimosa plant, contracting into itself and letting you hold on to thin air. Reality is made of nothing, just like dreams; it comes from nothing and has to return to it eventually, it just does it so much slower than the latter.…

Stories

1
The Gates of Horn and Ivory - Chapter 3.1 The Dionysia 7:50

منذ 20 weeks7:50

7:50

Persephone used the pretext she had to oversee the progress in the barley fields to take her leave from the city, which was bursting at the seams with crafting festival paraphernalia, cooking, and the stress people always experience on the eve of major holidays. The city’s noise and bustle gradually disappeared as the goddess ventured into the fields, which had already been plowed and sown, and whose fresh shoots were starting to emerge, green and slender like grass. The clearings and meadows overflowed with daffodils, and though the air was still cool, Persephone felt Gaia’s vibrant return to life. The honeybees, her underworld messengers, emerged from crevices and hollows, to greet their mistress with the latest news from home. She watched them dance their messages, smiling to old memories, intoxicated with the scent of daffodils and caressing the tiny shoots of wheat as if they were her little children, gathered round to bask in her presence. Such blessed peace she felt in the fields, whose bounty filled her heart more than any offerings left on the steps of her altars.…

Stories

1
The Gates of Horn and Ivory - Chapter 2.3 The Moirae 10:27

منذ 21 weeks10:27

10:27

Stories

1
The Gates of Horn and Ivory - 2.2 Charming Dionysus 10:44

منذ 22 weeks10:44

10:44

“Good morning, princess!” Dionysus entered the room, surrounded, as always, by a large posse of obviously impaired maenads and satyrs. He never went anywhere without them, and sometimes Persephone wondered if he’d ever been alone. Huge Etruscan amphorae filled with wine had been brought to the room for his visit, a welcome escape from the white on white decor, even though the god himself barely partook, since he drank nectar like the rest of them, to restore his beauty and youth. Persephone admired his graceful demeanor as he approached her, a vaguely androgynous countenance, with long flowing hair, braided with wild vines, a beautiful figure who looked deceptively young, his gait as light and carefree as the spirit which shone, childlike, in his eyes. He smiled at the goddess, who was close kin, and with whom he shared the gift of walking between worlds. ‘How did he keep so fit?’ Persephone couldn’t help but be amazed, ‘when he was constantly engaged in this self-indulgent lifestyle!’ It obviously took its toll on his entourage, the satyrs who, she assumed, had never experienced sobriety, and the maenads who roamed the forests drunk and out of control, acquiring the strength and ferocity of wild beasts from the substances they consumed.…

Stories

1
The Gates of Horn and Ivory - 2.1 The Healings of Epidaurus 10:05

منذ 23 weeks10:05

10:05

It was almost midnight when the goddesses and their suite reached the temple, where they were welcomed in complete silence by the priests, who took them to the Thollos and retreated respectfully, content with the privilege of watching the ceremony. Persephone parted the veil between worlds, allowing the denizens of her kingdom safe passage to the land of the living. “Merry meet, Asclepius,” she welcomed the famed doctor with a smile. “I carry glad tidings from your husband, mistress, and all his love. I will be happy to return and reassure him you are well.” “What dreams you bring, my friend? Will the afflicted receive welcome news?” “I bring healing for some, and comfort for others, and news from the ones they have loved in this world. The portal between worlds is open and we await your command, my queen.” With that, he bowed deeply and moved to her side, to control the flow of healing dreams to the patients, who were fast asleep, curled up on the stone floors of the temple. “Who is coming forth to seek guidance?” She uttered the first words of the ritual. “It’s Attalus, goddess, son of Cassander.” “And what is your need?” The sleeping soul gave her the full measure of his ailments, while Asclepius listened keenly, occasionally nodding. When the patient was done talking, the doctor thought deeply, then scribbled a recipe for medicine in light, on a parchment made of air, and handed it to the sleeping soul, to remember upon awakening.…

Stories

1
The Gates of Horn and Ivory - 1.3 The Haunted Caves 10:18

منذ 24 weeks10:18

10:18

They saw it from afar, as they were traveling among the clouds in Helios’s chariot, the strange city of caves, carved in the soapstone of a cluster of spiky cliffs, sometimes by nature, sometimes by man, displayed amid the arid landscape like a giant sculpture, maybe an artifact the titans left behind, before his love of humankind landed Prometheus his penance. A huge human beehive it seemed to be, where the diligent workers moved about through hundreds of holes in the stone cliffs towards the innards of the place, dug deep into the earth: the huge underground metropolis that marked the beating heart of Anatolia. A large delegation welcomed the goddesses, with the traditional sheaves of grain and prolonged orations, and when it was done prostrating, the group surrounded them like living water and carried them down stairs and ramps through large subterranean chambers and hallways, past people carrying on their mundane activities, past carved galleries and alleys and arcades, public spaces and ventilation shafts, temples, tombs, and sanitation systems, stables and wells and water reservoirs, all the parts of a flawlessly functioning city, miles beneath the earth’s surface, illuminated only by Prometheus’s gift.…

Stories

1
The Gates of Horn and Ivory - 1.2 Praise Olympus! 10:00

منذ 25 weeks10:00

10:00

The sun woke her up the next morning, the memory of her dream still fresh. She was picnicking in her orchard, eating pomegranate seeds at dusk, while Hades, who sat beside her, watching, brought each seed to life with a light of its own as her lips touched it, just to amuse her. A group of nymphs burst into the room, giggling and shoving each other, and suddenly grew quiet when they found themselves in the presence of the goddess. A prolonged monotonous droning of odes and praise ensued, a spectacle Persephone listened to with patience and appreciation, like a good immortal would, secretly relieved when it finally ended and it was proper for her to get out of bed. The darn thing was massive, placed atop of a stepped marble platform to loom over the also enormous room, which would have been a better fit for a ballroom than a bedroom, and whose glistening white portico opened out to the sights above the clouds. Far into the distance, the peak of Mount Olympus poked through them, a vision in rose and lavender, halfway between dream and reality.…

Stories

1
The Gates of Horn and Ivory - 1.1 Spring 9:55

منذ 27 weeks9:55

9:55

Persephone had a secret, one she could never tell her mother. She had never enjoyed the gossip, the pointless aggravation, and the churning of vanities and ambitions that surrounded her life in the living world, the daily rehashed dramas of the nymphs’ latest trysts, the self-centered empty dalliances of the male gods, the petty envies of the spurned minor goddesses, the closed-minded expectations of the powers that be, the gaudy, useless pomp, the empty rhetoric. When tall, dark, and handsome walked her way, she had rolled her eyes at first, in exasperation of having to endure yet another episode of the over-inflated male ego, and was determined to evade his attention as soon as feasible and with as little damage to her eardrums as possible, but he turned out to be nothing she expected. He didn’t tell her who he was, of course, out of fear he’d be rejected before he had a chance to speak his woo, and by the time they got closer, he had even more reason to keep his identity quiet, grateful for the miracle of her and worried not to lose her love.…

Stories

1
The Blue Rose Manuscript - Rose 4:35

منذ 28 weeks4:35

4:35

Rose Brecht had an enchanted childhood, rendered even more so because she’d been born blessed with a vivid imagination. Her mind made up worlds and stories, so complex and filled with detail that even the grown-ups had trouble telling them apart from reality some times. Though they got her in trouble more often than she liked to admit, these worlds inside her mind felt very real to her, even though she couldn’t share them with anybody, not without being scolded. Throughout her childhood this imaginary world shared the landscape of her mind with the real one, and she allocated equal importance to the two to the dismay of her family and friends. When time came for her to go to college, she shocked her loved ones by choosing a discipline deeply grounded in science, replete with experiments, fact finding and extensive research, a choice they had difficulty believing at first, used as they were to her wild flights of fancy.…

Stories

1
The Blue Rose Manuscript - Only Echoes, Endlessly Repeating - Local 11:10

منذ 29 weeks11:10

11:10

Local: Denoting a variable or other entity that is only available for use in one part of a construct, relating to a particular region or part, or to each of any number of these. My beloved child, there are so many things I wanted to teach you! We all live in a subset of reality that only reaches as far as our minds and our senses. We occupy a small room inside being, and in that room we’re like the orange that falls off the side of a wagon and upsets every other fruit in its path. We get a sense of our surroundings based on immediacy and adjacency; we rush to the familiar to solve problems and favor the most recent things we did when we look for quick ways to tackle something new. Our minds economize when they take in the world, we keep our trusted standards to the forefront of our thinking, so we don’t have to do any more of it than necessary. We can only experience things that are available in our corner of the world. Just because something does not exist where we are, that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist in general. Here is a simple example, we only know what snow looks like because we live here, where it gets cold in the winter. If we lived in Egypt, we could go through our entire lives with no knowledge of it. Everything that hasn’t dawned on us yet does not exist. There may be states of being stranger than words, time crystals, solar winds, condensates of reality itself, but they are all unavailable to our perception, because we can’t live inside the conditions that define their worlds.…

Stories

1
The Blue Rose Manuscript - Only Echoes Endlessly Repeating - Fractal 12:59

منذ 30 weeks12:59

12:59

Fractal: A complex geometric pattern exhibiting self-similarity in that small details of its structure viewed at any scale repeat elements of the overall pattern. [This observation is unrelated to the manuscript, but it refers to an event so unusual for the climate of this region I thought it would be worth recording. Today, July 24, at four in the afternoon, it snowed. The large and very cold snowflakes signaled to us that the wind currents that made this strange weather event possible drew precipitation from the clouds in the higher atmosphere faster than they could adjust. Snow in summer is rare, but it happened before in this area, as the weather records from 1816 indicate. The snowflakes melted quickly, because of the heat embodied in the earth, but not before we had a chance to immortalize their delicate array of intricate shapes, no two alike. Because this event was as short lived as it was unexpected, it didn’t affect the library grounds, which have been a haven for many rare species of historical plants for the last two centuries. All the vegetation, from mosses to succulents and from herbaceous perennials to trees shrugged off the late chill, all but the ferns, whose fiddlehead growth will probably be delayed by a month. The cool and humid weather encouraged the proliferation of snails, to the great distress of the groundskeeper and to our unexpected amusement. Their shells dazzled in a broad variety of colors, patterns and shapes, which, for some strange reason, remind me of the illuminations of the manuscript.]…

Stories

1
The Blue Rose Manuscript - Only Echoes Endlessly Repeating - Scale 12:40

منذ 31 weeks12:40

12:40

Scale: The relative size or extent of something. The first thing you should consider when you ask yourself how something works is at what scale. A grain of sand is the same as a rock or a planet, it is our specific experience that renders it minute. Our sense of proportion, rooted in our own size, makes some processes obvious and others obscure, we can only perceive things based on our own scale. Our mind has a broader view, but it too is limited. We are range bound to the things we can observe, either through our own senses or through the use of instruments. There are things in existence we can never see, not even when given all of time and when eliminating all of the limitations of space: things from before the universe began, things that wind up so tight that even time and light can’t escape them, things from places that are not reality, if they exist. The reason we don’t know the last fact for sure is that the scale of the thing we are observing, existence itself, makes it impossible for us to see outside it. We live in a flatland of perception, where things, speeds and concepts that are very large or very small do not exist. Take, for instance, our perception of time: things that move at speeds faster than of our range are invisible and things that move at speeds much slower than it we consider still. Nothing is really still, even the North Star moves.…

Stories

1
The Blue Rose Manuscript - Always and Forever - Clarity 11:21

منذ 32 weeks11:21

11:21

Clarity: The quality of transparency or purity; the quality of being coherent and intelligible. [Nowhere in the document is the fact that somebody arranged the pages out of sequence more clear than here. The writing is neat and correct, but labored, betraying a hand still striving to achieve full control of its fine motor functions. There is no doubt the scribe is the same, the markers of the handwriting clearly indicate it. Even the rose seal looks tentative, as if a child had gotten permission to use it and felt overwhelmed by the responsibility and afraid of making a mistake. This page is illuminated to a much greater degree than the others, a task made easier to accomplish due to the sparseness of the text, which is restricted to the center of the page. It looks like there have been temporary lines to demarcate a box for the content, maybe to help the young scribe maintain clean text edges; there are also lines to keep the writing straight, and the calligraphy clings to them with tormented intensity. The experience of reading the content of this document presented in the handwriting of an eight or nine-year-old is surreal. The more I advance into the manuscript, the more this question weighs on me: who was this person who wrote it down? She was a woman as far as we can tell, but there are no traces of her passing through this world, outside the conversations included in this manuscript.…

Stories

1
The Blue Rose Manuscript - Always and Forever - Constant 10:53

منذ 33 weeks10:53

10:53

Constant: A number expressing a relation or property which remains the same in all circumstances, or for the same substance under the same conditions. The universe is a living contradiction, and I stopped trying to reconcile its paradoxes a long time ago, so I will state this knowing it doesn’t yield to logic. Existence is constantly in motion, endlessly transforming and renewing itself, and yet, throughout its churning essence there are fixed points, constants, fundamental invariants. They are not fixed in the sense we normally understand that word, so things appear to us to be changing, even though in a larger sense they are not. There is a fine structure of constants underlying existence, a structure that governs it discretely and throughout. For example, we can see every system in creation at a large scale, where we can measure its energy and its movement, and at a small scale, where we can define its essence. These two values, the measure of its energy and the measure of its substance, are always in the same proportion, no matter what system you are contemplating. This is not something reality makes obvious to us, from our standpoint all we see is matter, constantly decaying, recombining, bouncing into other instances of itself. We can’t see the law behind its apparent chaos, the law that says that the energy of a system and its temperature are always relating to each other in the same way. Constants like that are few, but together they are enough to define our reality, and if we were to alter even one, whatever we know of it would cease to exist. No need to worry, though, this is impossible.…

Stories

1
The Blue Rose Manuscript - Always and Forever - Rapture 15:13

منذ 34 weeks15:13

15:13

Rapture: A state or experience of being carried away by overwhelming emotion. I will describe a personal experience for you, because it is the best way I can think of to illustrate the concept we’re about to discuss. I went out into nature just before dawn, during that ghostly hour that puts a chill through one’s bones no matter what the season. It is unfamiliar, that hour, a time when we’re usually asleep, and that made me uncomfortable to be out, among the shadows and the creatures of the night. There was something different about that early morning, a strange stillness, like all existence had come to a stop - no sounds in the branches, no gusts of wind, no calls. I couldn’t feel the air against my skin, it must have been at the temperature where no heat exchange takes place. The light switched gradually from violet to gray, enough that I could distinguish the things around me, and be astonished even more by their strange stillness. I sat on the ground, and I couldn’t feel the coldness of the earth beneath me, it must have been at the temperature where no heat exchange takes place. It didn’t feel like one usually expects, and you know exactly what I mean if you ever had to sleep on the ground.…

Stories

1
The Blue Rose Manuscript - Divided by Zero - Revelation 14:34

منذ 35 weeks14:34

14:34

Revelation: The divine or supernatural disclosure to humans of something unexplainable relating to human existence or the world. The expectation to understand everything, while worthy, is unreasonable. Some things can’t be counted in the time frame of existence, some knowledge is so alien to our mind we can’t put it in a structure of understanding. Don’t shun such knowledge and such things. It is pure vanity to believe we have a grasp on reality just for understanding a few of its laws. Think about it. We can only understand the things close to our scale, everything that is significantly larger or smaller is outside our grasp. We can only see things that get revealed by the light, everything that is finer than the top if its range or coarser than its bottom is invisible to us. If I were to move so fast that, as you blink, I shifted my position from this side of you to the other, your mind could not find a reasonable explanation, and would think me magical. Faraway things may look real to us, when in fact they are just mirages of light. You say that the mirage phenomenon is not foreign to our understanding, and that we all heard about the strange tricks eyes play on weary travelers when they’re lost in the desert, thirsty and exhausted.…

Stories

1
The Blue Rose Manuscript - Divided by Zero Shift 15:20

منذ 36 weeks15:20

15:20

Shift: A slight change in position, direction, or tendency. Let’s talk about a quality of existence which escapes the inattentive eye: its movements are not smooth, it advances in jerks and jumps, in sudden shifts, going from one state to another without passing through the stations in between. This works for gaining understanding and knowledge as well as it does for freezing a pond. Reality doesn’t advance along threads, it takes the stairs. It stays in a state for a while, no matter how much effort goes into moving it forward, and then it jumps, suddenly and for no particular reason, to the next state, which is not only a change in quality but also different in nature, so different sometimes that we can’t even recognize it as the next logical step in a progression. It is often easier to recognize the shifts. They are sudden events, out of the blue, but even when we expect them, they still take us by surprise, because we can’t figure out their timing or the fashion in which they will present themselves to us. We understand them in retrospect, clear as day, but when they move life to a new state we can’t recognize it, for the simple reason we haven’t seen it before. These shifts are sudden, but subtle, like rip currents at sea, which you only acknowledge after you’ve been caught in them.…

Stories

1
The Blue Rose Manuscript - Divided by Zero - Options 15:20

منذ 37 weeks15:20

15:20

Option: An act of choosing; a thing that is or may be chosen Like all naturally evolving systems reality doesn’t behave according to a predetermined plan, it runs on repeated trial and error and on eliminating the fruitless branches in the tree of choice. Even though you can’t see it, reality presents and tests options for itself constantly and automatically, in a manner you may recognize from the quiet processes inside of a body. It favors the organisms best fit to survive; it breaks down things that are in the way of processes in progress and it keeps altering the states of its major systems until they reach a balance with each other. There is an unseen simplifier to this process, one that runs quietly in the background and one we don’t pay attention to: reality is constantly eliminating all the outcomes of a set of circumstances safe one. We don’t think about it because that would add an unnecessary amount of complexity to an already overburdened understanding of life.…

Stories

1
The Blue Rose Manuscript - Mirror Reality Synapse 15:36

منذ 38 weeks15:36

15:36

Synapse: A junction between two nerve cells, consisting of a minute gap across which impulses pass by diffusion of a neurotransmitter. There is an interstitial stretch that fills the space between knowledge and learning, a field where ideas roam free. Inside that space there is no organizing structure, everything melds together in a chaotic jumble, free to create associations and break them as easily as breathing. These free moving concepts are like rapping raindrops of knowledge on the roof of your mind. There is no logic in this space between your mind and the ideas that are trying to reach it, not in the sense we usually understand it. In this space all the forms that human thought creates are equal and stripped of moral charges. It is a place where ideas move constantly at great speeds and bind in amalgams that only last fractions of a second, but in their endless morphing all these ideas are valid, at least temporarily, and they function as scaffolding in the construction of your lasting thoughts.…

Stories

1
The Blue Rose Manuscript - Mirror Reality -Sympathetic 14:40

منذ 39 weeks14:40

14:40

Sympathetic: Relating to, producing, or denoting an effect which arises in response to a similar action elsewhere. Frequently actions, states and events emerge simultaneously in various parts of reality, acting exactly the same, like synchronized ripples in its fabric. Sometimes an event gets reflected by another, completely bound to it like an object to its shadow or to its mirror image. Never can these shadows and reflections act independently from the object that generated them. Unlike reflections and shadows however, these pairings of events work both ways, like they are both the objects and they are both their mirror images too. These reflections are random and inexplicable, not bound by logic or causality, they just exist randomly in the fabric of reality and pop up for no reason now and then as a reminder that we understand very few of the rules that govern existence. Imagine walking down a sumptuous hall where everything fits into the design and is in harmony with its proportions, color and style.…

Stories

1
The Blue Rose Manuscript - Roots, Branches and Offshoots - Concentration 16:03

منذ 40 weeks16:03

16:03

Concentration: The relative amount of a given substance contained within a solution or in a particular volume of space; the amount of solute per unit volume of solution; the action or power of focusing one’s attention on mental work. You are familiar with concentrated essence from the flower oils and hydrosols you have sampled in the apothecary shop. Concentration eliminates the bulk of a medium to extract the essence blended inside it. Let me help you understand how you can concentrate and direct your mind so you can extract its essence in a similar way. Whether we are awake or asleep, our mind never stops churning. We buckle under the weight of our thoughts, most of which are incidental and contradictory. Like the alchemist who distills the essence of a thousand roses into a single drop of perfume, so should you be able to remove the bulk around the core of your ideas to refine their content. The theory of how to do this is simple, the practice not so much. The mind is like a scared little rabbit, constantly on the run, alert to the slightest noise, disturbed by the faintest memory. It never stops building defenses around itself and consumes enormous amounts of resources in the process.…

Stories

1
The Blue Rose Manuscript - Roots, Branches and Offshoots - Derivative 14:59

منذ 41 weeks14:59

14:59

Derivative: An expression representing the rate of change of a function with respect to an independent variable. Some phenomena are not about themselves. They take you one level, one dimension down into the substance of things, they are measurements of change, gauges of the inner workings of the world, consequences of movement. Every atom in existence is a player in a giant set of games of variability. Imagine the collection of all of these games as threads, clusters, and fabrics. These threads of things happening, let’s say, are not even, they display changes in speed; they have lumps and thinnings; they stop and change direction, they soar, plummet or disappear. Their changes imprint a secondary metric into our world, a measure of variability, a smoothing over of its irregular nature. These measures show trends and directions, they clean the world of detail to reveal only the impulses of motion. They are diagrams of change. Take, for instance, the line of highest slope. The water always follows it when it flows down the hill. Or the line of lowest slope. A donkey will always find it when it carries burdens up the hill. These lines are not obvious, they are abstract measurements of the change in incline and they only become visible when the water, or the donkey, reveals their existence. You will say to yourself that it is not reasonable to guide yourself by the wisdom of lesser things, and that is a vanity of human thought, which deems itself the arbiter of things only because it gathered a few droplets from an infinite sea of knowledge constantly refreshing itself.…

Stories

1
The Blue Rose Manuscript - Roots, Branches and Offshoots - Precursor 15:47

منذ 42 weeks15:47

15:47

Precursor: A substance from which another is formed, especially by metabolic reaction You can think of precursors as the ancestors of an event. Everything that is has evolved from something else, which also evolved from something else. The universe is a giant chain reaction still in progress. What you are looking at right now is a step in a very complicated sequence of transformations that started at the beginning of time. I am not talking only about matter itself, which is a good example, but about everything: events, concepts, physical laws. Every happenstance is born from the interaction of a series of factors, its precursors. Change one of those factors and its structure becomes fundamentally different. Good students of the laws that govern existence don’t limit themselves to observing these interactions, they understand and anticipate the results of the reaction, and, if possible, they seek the elements which, mixed, will yield the results they desire. These elements can be anything: the right timing, a certain level of need or curiosity, spreading the word, the right state of mind. Everything is a reactant in your alchemical cauldron, the world itself is your laboratory.…

Stories

1
The Blue Rose Manuscript - In Motion Current 15:56

منذ 43 weeks15:56

15:56

Current: A fluid motion in a definite direction, especially through a surrounding body of fluid in which there is less movement We all see the world as a collection of solid objects independent of each other and relying on external impulses to set them in motion. I would like you to set aside that view for the duration of this lecture, and imagine existence as a self-activating fluid. Underneath the surface of this endless sea that is reality, a sea with deep, perpetually troubled waters, there are currents and eddies and vortexes. They manifest in every one of its components, there are currents in social mores, which we call zeitgeist, there are currents in thought, which we call schools, there are currents in spiritual life, which we call religions. Under normal circumstances we accept these currents without thinking, just as we don’t wonder why blood is running through our veins, but once they draw our attention, they become impossible to ignore, so much that they can be distracting.…

Stories

1
The Blue Rose Manuscript - In Motion - Timing 14:14

منذ 44 weeks14:14

14:14

Timing: The choice, judgment, or control of when something should be done. Don’t mistake timing for scheduling, or planning. It is difficult to explain what timing is, some things are easier to demonstrate than to describe. You have already encountered timing, and you take it for granted, because it is woven into the fabric of reality and occurs naturally in all the processes that work well. Its most obvious use is in music, which would not come together without tempos, measures, and counterpoints. Their planned pauses build anticipation and lead to the moment when one expects to hear the sound. We accomplish a lot of this instinctively, of course, but the fact that everybody understands the purpose of those rhythms reveals that timing is built into our being, very much like our senses are. Timing is the mental sense that helps us both create and pay attention to synchronicity, and it organizes the timeline of an event in the same way placement cards predetermine the seating of guests at a dinner table.…

Stories

1
The Blue Rose Manuscript - The Round World - Folding 14:18

منذ 45 weeks14:18

14:18

Folding: Bending (something flexible and relatively flat) over on itself so that one part of it covers another. Today we will talk about folds. The purpose of folding is to minimize the surface of a thin flat object for better storage or transportation. Just like a tablecloth, all things that get folded will display distinguishable characteristics: grooves, lack of wear, wrinkles. We fold memories in our minds for many reasons, to free up space, to obscure things we don’t need all the time, to conceal unpleasant memories. We wrap this knowledge with great care, mark it with the contents, minimize its conscious footprint to just that marker so we can retrieve it at will, and submerge the rest of the packet into long-term storage, deep beneath our thoughts. There is an entire world of these mental artifacts under there, all labeled, a strange collection of treasure and garbage. Every now and then we accidentally stumble upon one of these labels and the respective fold suddenly unfurls, spilling its guts into its surroundings and disrupting current activities.…

مرحبًا بك في مشغل أف ام!

يقوم برنامج مشغل أف أم بمسح الويب للحصول على بودكاست عالية الجودة لتستمتع بها الآن. إنه أفضل تطبيق بودكاست ويعمل على أجهزة اندرويد والأيفون والويب. قم بالتسجيل لمزامنة الاشتراكات عبر الأجهزة.

الاستماع إلى +500 موضوع

15 subscribers

مشابه لـStories

The Let Them Theory: A Life-Changing Tool That Millions of People Can't Stop Talking About

Bounty Quick Size Paper Towels, White, 8 Family Rolls = 20 Regular Rolls (Packaging May Vary)

Crayola Colored Pencils (36ct), Kids Pencil Set, Back to School Essentials, Must Have Classroom Supplies for Kids, Pre-Sharpened Coloring Book Pencils, 3+

المدونة الصوتية تستحق الاستماع

Stories

Stories

المدونة الصوتية تستحق الاستماع

مرحبًا بك في مشغل أف ام!

The Let Them Theory: A Life-Changing Tool That Millions of People Can't Stop Talking About

The Let Them Theory: A Life-Changing Tool That Millions of People Can't Stop Talking About

Tubi: Watch Free Movies & TV Shows

Minecraft

The Let Them Theory: A Life-Changing Tool That Millions of People Can't Stop Talking About

مشابه لـStories

دليل مرجعي سريع