#world and believed that him being stripped of his identity was a small price to pay for a better world but what makes him even stronger in | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

slbp-secret-cupid · 5 years

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Notes: I'm a fan of a band called Wagakki Band, which uses modern and traditional instruments and mostly play j-rock. That's what partly inspired me to write this since I love how they sound.

Also, to my Cupid recipient, @michverse, I hope that you like it ^^ Happy SLBP Valentine’s Day - @otome0heart

PEEBLES IN THE WAY

“Did you have fun, Miss?”

The young woman turned around to see her personal maid, Matsuko, close the sliding door of her room with a big smile on her face and a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, and she felt a light blush cover her cheeks.

“Yes, I did” she replied while she gave her her coat and bag.

It had been much more than just 'fun'. The concert had been amazing, the music and the singing reaching to every single heart in the hall, which answered with as much passion as the musicians gave.

“And I suppose your fiancé's performance was great...”

She side-glanced at Matsuko, feeling her face even hotter, and the young maid could not help a chuckle.

“Of course, it was” she muttered, starting to unbutton her clothes.

“You don't have to feel embarrassed for having such a gorgeous and talented fiancé, Miss. I'd be really proud to show him off.”

She took off the dress and put it on top of the chest of drawers on her left. Then, she put her arms through the sleeves of her sleeping yukata, which Matsuko held for her.

“I know, and I am” she tied a sash around her waist. “It's just that... things are complicated...”

She turned to look at the maid with a small wistful smile.

“I know, Miss, I know...”

She sighed. Yes, the situation could not be more difficult. Not only was he a famous wadaiko player but also, her family was not making things easy for them. She breathed deeply and then, went to the other side of the room, opening the sliding door which led outside.

“Is everyone sleeping?”

“Yes. Your aunt turned off her lights as soon as she heard you arrive home.”

“Good” he smile widened, showing her satisfaction. “I'll be back in fifteen minutes. Take out the bedding and then, retire for the night. Thanks for waiting for me.”

“It was a pleasure, Miss” the woman bowed her head. “Goodnight.”

She made her way across the garden with only the moonlight as her guide. She had taken that stone path which guided to the far end of the enclosure so many times that she did not need any lights to illuminate her way. There, she stopped in front of a small old storage room which nobody used now for its distance from the main house and its decayed state. She unlocked it with a key she always wore around her neck and entered, holding the door in a way to avoid the hinges making any noise. Once in the safety of the one-room house, she sighed, relieved. In the darkness, she touched the wooden wall, where she knew there would be a candle and a box of matches, and lit it. The tiny flame lit a clean space that she had tidied with the help of her brother Yahiko and Matsuko, slowly and taking turns to avoid suspicions, except for when most of the family was away, when the three of them could work there for some hours. There, she kept the things that made her happy which had been forbidden by her relatives because they did not suit someone of her status.

Status. She snorted as she entered the room, the tatami creacking softly under her bare feet. That was all that mattered to them. Yahiko's status as the heir of the restaurant chain their parents had founded. He own status as the heiress to be married to make connections.

Little by little, they had stripped her of hobbies, friends and feelings to mold her into the perfect wife for a rich man. And she had complied. Or at least, she had made them believe it. She still kept in touch with some of her dearest friends and she had gathered whatever precious memories she had been able to save in that little room.

She walked to the center of the room, illuminating one of her favourite dolls, trophies she had won in sports competitions during school and a few romance novels and manga that still made her heart flutter each time she reread them.

She left the candle on top of a low cupboard and rummaged in the folds of her sleeping robe, taking out the ticket of the concert. A soft smile drew across her lips. What her relatives had never suspected was that they had given her the person that her heart had wanted the most for so long. When they had told her that they had already decided on a husband for her, she had tried to rebel. Even Yahiko, her brother, had. However, when she had discovered the identity of her fiancé, she had had no more reasons to protest.

She put the ticket on top of the cupboard, next to a photo frame, smoothing it carefully and then, straightened, staring at the poster in front of her. Almost unconsciously, she lifted a hand and, delicately, traced the features of the man in it. She had become a fan of his group when they had started their music career, years ago, and little by little, she had fallen more and more for him without realising that what she felt was not only admiration but love, until they had been introduced to each other. In that moment, her heart had flooded with a million feelings, filling each single corner of her being, and deep inside her, she had simply known that she had given him her heart.

With a low purr rumbling in his throat, Takeda Shingen turned in his bed, seeking a few minutes more of sleep under the warmth of the covers. He put his arm around the pillow, burying his face in it, slightly frustrated because his much needed rest had been disturbed and the last threads of unconsciousness which fogged his mind were disappearing. Slowly, he opened his amber eyes, wondering what had made him wake up. The thick dark curtains were tightly closed, not letting the sunlight enter the room and he had made sure his mobile phone was muted so nobody could disturb him.

He lifted his head, looking around through heavy lidded eyes and then, something at the back of his mind told him the reason. He looked at the space beside him on the bed and sighed, letting himself fall on the mattress again.

After a concert, he always brought someone home, one of those friends who, as him, looked for a way to relieve themselves without any strings attached, someone who would disappear in the morning with not so much as a 'till next time' and did not ask for something in return.

However, all that had ended when he had got engaged. He sighed. As much as his needs were still the same, he now had a serious committed relationship and he planned to be faithful. He could not help a small snort as he laid on his back, his eyes staring at the white ceiling. He did not know from whom he had inherited such righteous feelings, since his father was not precisely the perfect example of faithfulness. Or maybe it was precisely that which had shaped him in that way. Seeing his mother suffer in silence the none discreet affairs of her husband had probably made him promise himself not to make the woman he chose and loved feel the same humiliation. Well, he had not exactly chosen her but that marriage was the price he had to pay for his freedom, the condition his father had stated to let him continue in the music world while contributing to the family’s prestige, and he was willing to pay it. Beside, his fiancée was a pretty girl and he knew that, if he made an effort to get to know her, he could end up liking her. He sighed. The only thing that irked him quite a lot was her shyness and her seemingly docile character. She talked when told to, and did as told too. She was modest and proper. He pictured her in his mind, her long brown hair tied in a low bun at the nape of her neck, her white skin and her pink lips, the perfectly fit kimonos she had always worn when he had visited her and... He furrowed his brows for a moment, trying to remember any other detail about her. And it was then that he realised he did not even know what colour her eyes were.

The screen of his mobile phone turned on, distracting him from his musings and, turning slightly, he picked it up from the top of his bedside table. As every morning, Kansuke, his assistant and best friend, had sent him the planning for the day. Fortunately, he did not have many engagements, an interview for a magazine with the rest of the band in a few hours and in the afternoon, a visit to his fiancée's household to have tea. He half closed his eyes, already dreading it. It was not that he did not want to see her, but they were never alone. Her family had guarded her closely since the first time he had stepped in the house, and they had not allowed even a short walk in their gardens in full view of all of them. However, he did not see anything bad in wanting to take up with her for a few minutes and he hoped that, as the wedding approached, they let him get closer to her. He had the right to do so.

But, as he had expected, once again, the situation was the same.

When he had arrived, he had been guided by a servant to the usual room where they received him. Her fiancée and her relatives were already there, waiting, and as soon as he had entered the room, the ritual had begun. The first time he had gone to that house, he had been surprised at the formality and ceremony he found, and had felt stupid, following every step after his parents and the rest of the people of the room, who seemed to know what to do. Now, his actions were almost mechanic. He had sat formally and bowed deeply in answer to their formal greetings. Then, he had answered courteous questions asked by the elders related to his family's health and, taking his place next to her brother, he had watched as her aunt performed once again the tea ceremony. Fortunately, those only lasted around an hour. It was not that he did not like them; he loved the ritual and how each action was performed with detail, following a specific procedure. However, instead of the quiet and relaxed atmosphere he had experienced in them during his life, there, the feeling was oppressive and he felt watched, judged by every single one of his actions.

Now, as he bowed formally at the end of the ceremony, not feeling thankful in the slightest, he stole a glance to his right. The young woman who was going to be his wife was sitting straighter than he had ever seen someone do it, with her head slightly bowed, as every single time before. He had to suppress a frustrated sigh and he straightened, looking ahead again. One more day that he could not talk to her. At that rate, they would be married without him knowing her favourite colour.

“I hope you forgive my rudeness” her aunt turned to him with a slight bow after all the utensils had been collected. “But I have a previous appointment in a few minutes, so I feel myself in the difficult position of shortening your visit.”

Definitely, she was a damned witch.

“Of course” he bowed his head too, briefly. “Please, rest assured that I'm not an- disgruntled at all” the old woman smiled satisfied. “However, I would like to request something of you before I go.”

It was obvious that nobody expected that, because the silence hung in the room a bit too longer than it had been desirable.

“Yes?” he had to suppress a smirk hearing her slightly displeased tone.

“I'd like to request your permission to take my fiancée out next Sunday.”

The silence was even heavier/thicker this time as he waited for an answer.

“Well, the engagement has already made official so I don't see any inconvenience for her to attend any event that your family organises...”

It was his turn to furrow his brows.

“It's neither a family gathering or a social event” he breathed deeply and lifted his chin proudly. “I would like to get to know her better so I had thought of us having lunch together.”

He side glanced at her, only to see her turn her head quickly, just in time to see her expression, a mixture of surprise and horror. Yahiko was looking at both of them alternatively, his eyes wide.

The elderly woman's hardened features and her tightly pressed mouth followed by a sharp intake of breath told him immediately he had stepped on a landmine.

“I'm going to be frank with you” she started, and her voice was cold like ice. “Even though I'm old and traditional, I am well aware of what young people nowadays consider “get to know better”, as I am of your reputation. I can't believe you're asking such a thing, expecting us to agree. No, I will not allow you to tarnish the immaculate reputation of this household. You will have time to 'get to know her' once the marriage ceremony takes place” she squared her shoulders. “I expect you to reflect upon your behaviour before your next visit. And now,” she bowed curtly and then, lifted herself up. “If you please...”

Shingen tightened his jaw until he felt pain and took a moment to stand up. In any other occasion, he would not have let her humiliate him like that, but the last thing he wanted to hear was his father berating him for offending them and risking the engagement. Dying to get out of that room, of that house, he did not look at anyone. He held his head high, proudly, before leaving the place.

How could things have gone so wrong?

The young woman had listened to the exchange between her fiancé and her aunt terrified. It seemed that she still had the power to destroy her happiness if she wanted to. Out of the corner of her eye, she had seen him bear stoically the old woman's harsh words, and though his eyes reflected the hardness of precious stones, she had seen his wounded pride in them too. That was something that her aunt knew how to do really well, being one of her victims herself. She attacked someone's vulnerable points until rendering them speechless and backing them against the wall, and she knew why he was willing to marry her and that he could not risk his chance.

She had sprung to her feet as soon as she had done it, at the same time as everybody except for him. As if challenging the old woman, he had stood up slowly, a second later than the rest, towering them all, his eyes never leaving her aunt's.

She had felt so useless at that moment, thinking that the engagement had ended, that he would walk out of her life that very moment leaving her broken forever without knowing it. And then, she would probably be betrothed to another without a second thought. A sudden wave of nausea at the idea overcame her and in that moment, she knew that she had to do something.

When she had come out of the room, trying to remain calm and at the same time to think fast about what to do, she had seen Matsuko, her expressive eyes worried. Then, it came to her mind what to do. If she could not speak to him or send him a message, as she had been denied his phone number, she could write him a note. She looked at her relatives, gathered around the main entrance, around him who was with his back to them, probably putting on his shoes, and with a quick gesture, she asked the maid for paper and pen. She looked around and then, a dawning expression lighted her face, as she brought her hand to her obi and extracted what seemed a supermarket receipt. She took them quickly, scribbling something just before her aunt's voice, calling her name, sounded in the hall. With a few short steps, she arrived at the line of people waiting. However, just before she could stop herself, she treaded on the step and lost her balance.

His hand was fast, holding her arm and steadying her before she crashed against him. His fingers were strong but strangely gentle in their grasp, and for a moment, she forgot everything around her as she perceived the sensuous, though faint, smell of his perfume and the slight warmth that was starting to seep through the layers of her sleeve. His eyes were even more beautiful than she had imagined, reflecting his surprise at the situation and a faint curiosity. After all, it was the first time they had truly looked at each other.

Her aunt's authoritative voice broke through her daydreaming and she jumped, snatching her arm from his hand and taking her place in the row of relatives, bowing to him when the old woman bid her farewell to him. Through her eyelashes, she saw him take a last reflexive look at her before disappearing through the sliding door.

A low murmur filled the hall when the five people next to her started to move to other parts of the house, and she could feel Yahiko's concerned gaze on her. She walked past him, her fingers brushing his softly, as a way to calm him.

“Clumsy child” her aunt's voice carried a disdaining tone, and she bowed her head in a submissive gesture. “I expect you to behave properly next time.”

She nodded, her eyes not leaving the floor. However, instead of embarrassment, all that filled her heart was the hope of him reading her note.

Shingen closed the door of his car with more force than necessary. How he hated them... If it was not for the advantages that the wedding would bring him, he would never go back.

He reclined his head back, letting it rest briefly against the seat, his lids fluttering close for a moment, trying to calm himself. As soon as they were married, he would take her out of that house and, if possible, they would only return to give their New Year greetings.

With a sigh, he grabbed the seatbelt with one hand while searching for his car keys in the pocket of his jacket with the other. However, there was something else in his pocket. Slightly confused, he took it out. It was the receipt of a convenience store, something he was sure he had never put in there. He turned it around and his sight fell on some hasty strokes written with a pencil.

I'm sorry.

Without realising it, a soft smile drew across his lips, knowing instinctively who the author of that note was. So, the fall had not been an accident, as she had made all of them believe. His smile widened, turning into a smirk. It seemed that the delicate submissive pretty flower he was supposed to marry was not so obedient.

A desperate knock on the window took him out of his thoughts abruptly and he saw a boy look at left and right quickly, a frantic expression marring his features. He lowered the glass.

“Yahiko... right?”

He nodded once.

“I have to show you something” his tone was urgent. “Park at the back of the house and wait for me there.”

Before he could reply, the boy started running and soon disappeared around the corner of the enormous stone wall that surrounded the compound. Shingen blinked a few times, a bit perplexed, but his interest had been picked between the note and the boy's promise so, he started the car, drove for a few minutes to avoid suspicions and then, turned around a street to go back to the house.

As he had promised, by the time he arrived, Yahiko was waiting for him next to a small wooden door. Without a word, he motioned him inside and guided him carefully, without barely making a noise, through a bamboo garden before finding themselves in front of a small deteriorated wooden storage house. Then, the young man turned to him, his face serious and his eyes shining with resolve.

“You see, I'm doing this for my sister's sake...” he straightened his shoulders. “So before I take you inside, I have to know... What do you think about her?”

He was left speechless for a moment and then, even though he tried to stifle it, a hearty laugh left his lips.

“What's so funny?” Yahiko crossed his arms and furrowed his brows.

“Nothing, kid but, do you realise that you're asking for an explanation to a guy who is more than twice your age, height and built? Who could lay you flat on the ground in this same moment?”

The boy did not change his attitude, neither seemed intimidated by him, and Shingen felt satisfied with that. He bent over, putting his hands on his knees so he could look at him eye to eye.

“I'm going to be sincere with you. She is my freedom to do what I like the most, if I marry her, I can continue my music career without my father meddling in my business and that's what I desire the most” the light in the boy's dark brown pupils wavered but Shingen knew that he had done right. “She's pretty and, though her docile character was not very appealing to me, it seems that there's more to her than that.”

Yahiko swallowed hard and breathed deeply. It had been hard to hear his reasons, but he also knew that his sister was aware of his feelings even though she had barely talked to him, and that she loved what he did, so he just nodded.

“Thank you” he bowed, and was slightly surprised when he saw Shingen return the gesture. “As I promised you, I'm going to show you something...” he took out a key from his pocket. “It's my sister's dearest treasure.”

The feeling of curiosity sparkled even brighter inside him as the lock slid back smoothly, a sign that, despite the run-down state of the whole building, it was used frequently. Yahiko opened the door carefully, stopping when the hinges squeaked.

“I think that's enough space for you to slip past...” he said, taking a look at his broad shoulders and muscled body.

His jacket brushed the frame with a whishing sound and he was almost sure that the fabric had been damaged in some way. Then, he found himself in a dark room, the scarce sunlight that entered through the crack only showing him a step and part of a light brown tatami mat just before the door closed quickly behind him. He heard some rustling of clothes beside him and a switch turned on, the beam of a flashlight crossing the room.

“My big sister always uses a candle because she usually comes at night and she wants to avoid anyone knowing that this place is being used. But now it's daylight and there's a lot of commotion in the house so I don't think the flashlight will be seen. And we have to be quick, so it's more convenient.”

The boy, who had been taking off his shoes while speaking, stepped in the room with a dull sound, turning to him with a small smile, the light dancing around the place with each of his movements. He followed him, looking around. By what he could grasp, it seemed that the place served its purpose of storing things but curiously, everything was tidy and clean. Also, there were pictures on the walls and objects carefully set on top of the shelves, as if they were there to be admired and cherished. His fingers brushed the flower patterned skirt of a western doll which was smiling widely at him and his eyes fell on the titles printed on the spines of a few books.

“Before our parents died in the plane crash” Yahiko's voice was subdued, and he approached him, his eyes still darting around, trying to absorb as much information as possible. “My sister was a normal teenager who read cheesy romance novels and went to the cinema with her friends. Even though our family was prestigious, mum and dad wanted us to grow up as ordinary children and enjoy life while we could. I remember that she was cheerful and kind and that I loved her bright smile.”

He smiled bitterly.

“However, when our relatives took us in, that ended. I was still a little boy so they mostly left me alone. However, she was already fifteen years old and they decided that she was old enough to start being trained as a wife and disposed of all her things” his gaze had wandered around, but then, it returned to the man in front of him. “What you see here is what we could save: a doll, a few books, her medals and trophies from the track and field competitions she participated in, photos...” he paused for a moment. “She was forced to leave all that behind. They tried to tame her and make her the perfect wife for a renown family and, after seeing that rebelling didn't bring her any good, she complied.”

There were some photos on the wall, and Shingen walked to them to see them better in the semi-darkness. The beam of light followed him and, lit them over his shoulder. There, different pictures of teenagers smiled back at him, and in all of them, an all too familiar girl he could barely relate to the demure lady he was engaged to stood out on her own.

“However, she's strong like my mother and she has managed to keep at least part of her spirit. Sometimes, she escapes from here with the help of her best friend, the only one our relatives approved from her past, and meet old acquaintances or do things that she's not allowed anymore.”

While listening to the story, Shingen had kept on wandering the room, finding small objects that were surely attached to a memory. Fleetingly, he thought that, once they were married, maybe he could get her to tell him about them. Lifting the lid of a box, he saw a small pile of Cds and, curious, he took one to see what type of tastes his fiancé had in music. His eyes widened in astonishment.

“I bet you didn't imagine she was a fan of your band...”

He lifted his head to look at the young boy. He was with his back to him, pointing the flashlight to a poster in front of him, one Shingen knew too well. It had been the promotional image of their first national tour. He walked to him, staring at the picture too. It was a bit flashier than he remembered, and he could not help a small smile seeing that he still had his hair short at that time. However, there was another one next to that and he pushed the light with his fingertips to take a better look at it. It was a recent one and he was alone in there. It had been taken at one of the concerts and on it, he was with his back to the watcher, his profile outlined by the spotlights and his hair braided in small plaits on the sides of his head and then tied up in a high ponytail as he played one of the enormous waidaiko around him.

“She had admired you for a long time, and she barely could believe it when they told her that you were her betrothed” Yahiko's voice had turned slightly amused. “I'd never seen her more bewildered than at that moment. However, she had to make an effort to recover so our aunt wouldn't suspect something. But her hands were trembling under the sleeves of her kimono.”

He turned to the man.

“Now you know a bit more about her” a smile made its way across his lips. “It's what you wanted, right?” Shingen could only nod absently, still looking at the posters in front of him, trying to reconcile all the information in his mind. “Now, let's go. Somebody could come looking for me at any moment and it would be bad if they caught us. Especially for her.”

He nodded once again, more firmly this time, and it was then that something caught his attention.

Yahiko took some steps towards the entrance and turned to see if he was following him. However, he was still in the same place, looking at something in his hand. He pointed the light to him.

“Your sister... was at last night concert...”

Yahiko chuckled. “Of course! I told you she escapes the house sometimes, didn't I?

After coming out of the building and making their way carefully to the wooden door in the fence, Yahiko rummaged in the the folds of his kimono.

“Before I forget, here's her phone number and mail”

“I already have those...” Shingen paused for a moment and glanced at the boy, feeling a bit troubled. “Though to tell you the truth, I've never used them.”

Yahiko moved his head.

“Those are my aunt's, she had to make sure you had as little contact with her as possible. However, she doesn't know she has a private one that only the close friends who they think she has cut ties with have. Maybe she'll take some time to answer, since she can't check it often but you can talk to her without them knowing about it.”

He took the paper and looked at it reflexively.

“Why are you doing all this? Am I not supposed to be the bad guy who's marrying her for his own benefit?”

The boy looked at him seriously, putting a hand on his waist.

“My big sister is my only true family and I want her to be happy. And I know her only way to that is getting out of this house. To tell you the truth, I hated you so much when you came for the first time. But I've watching you this whole time and you seemed interested in her as a person. And that became clear today. Beside, you didn't freak out when you saw all this and realised that she's admired you for a long time. Any other would've thought she was a creep. That made me trust you.”

For a moment, the memory of her panicked eyes, of a beautiful shade of brown, and the rushed apology on the supermarket ticket, appeared in his mind and he could not help a soft smile. Then, he lifted his hand and tousled Yahiko's hair softly. The teenager's eyes stared directly at his, a sudden wave of uncertainty shining briefly in them.

“You'll free her, right?”

Shingen smiled widely, feeling strangely proud of that boy he barely knew but who already felt like a little brother to him.

“Leave it to me, kid.”

It was late at night when the young woman got up from bed and crossed her room. Silently, she pulled at the lowest drawer of the chest where she kept her clothes, taking it out completely, and she introduced her arm in the space. She closed her fingers around the thin device hidden there, a smartphone Umeko, her best friend, had bought for her. She extracted it from the fabric bag she had made to protect it and she switched it on.

Umeko had sent her some photos of the concert and she smiled upon seeing them, a few butterflies coming to life in her stomach when she saw one of Shingen that Umeko had edited with some hearts and sparkles, and the text “Your Husband” at the bottom.

Silly, she typed on the screen, feeling the blush that dusted her cheeks even hotter.

Also, she had notifications from communities about the band, where the fans were going overboard about their performance, and other less innocent things.

The phone vibrated when she was about to turn it off and she opened a new mail that she had received, even though she did not recognise the address at that moment. She became stunned upon reading the greeting, her heart thundering in her chest painfully, so loud that she feared for a moment somebody else could hear it.

She breathed deeply through her mouth as her fingertips brushed the screen, her pupils absorbing his words as if they were trying to engrave them in her mind.

He had read her note and she did not have to apologise for anything.

Something broke inside her and she felt weak with relief, her limbs suddenly heavy.

But he insisted on having that date he had asked for...

She bit her trembling lower lip, letting her hands fall on her lap as they held the device tightly, and closed her eyes for a moment, trying to regain her calmness.

A part of her was dying to say yes. Until that afternoon, she had been convinced that he had no interest in her and that he thought their engagement was a bother. That he had a lover... But the tone of his voice and the solemnity of his expression had told her of his serious commitment. And that he wanted to know more about her said that he wished to look at her as a person and not just as his freedom to live his life as he pleased.

However, a small voice at the back of her mind told her that she would embarrass herself in front of him. Up to that moment, she had been partly relieved that she had barely had to talk during his visits, as she was sure she would get flustered and stutter so much that she would be scolded in front of him.

Her fingertips hovered over the keyboard. She breathed deeply and pressed her lips in a thin line. However, she could not go on like that forever. There would be a time where she would have to break that barrier. She could not become his wife without being able to look at him directly or talk to him. And she had the feeling that if she refused, things would become awkward between them and starting a life in common under such circumstances would only damage their relationship. She needed to be brave, however nerve wracking the experience would be.

In that moment, a creak was heard in the corridor and she jumped. Quickly, she put the smartphone in her sleeve, put the drawer in its place and ran trying not to make any noise. She covered herself just in time for the door to slide a bit. She buried her face in the pillow to calm her breathing. She had discovered a few months before that her relatives sometimes watched her at night, especially when they had any suspicion about her actions. And that day events had shaken them deeply. She felt the urge to snort. As if a fiancé asking for a date with his betrothed would be something so scandalous.

After she felt calmer, she sighed and turned to the other side. She had mastered the art of feigning sleep to its finest after so many times staying up surfing the internet or chatting with her old friends until the early hours.

The minutes ticked away in the antique clock of her room until she finally heard the sliding door close again and light steps walk off until they faded in the corridor. She breathed relieved and, after listening attentively for some more time, she rummaged in her sleeve to extract the phone.

Her eyes read his messages again and then, swallowing hard, she started to type.

They had agreed to meet the following Saturday instead of the Sunday he had requested at first, to avoid suspicions, and upon telling her their plans, her best friend Umeko had readily offered her help. And that day, as he had told her, he was waiting for her at the entrance of a park situated in one of the wards in Kyoto further from her house, where her relatives would not probably find them.

For a moment, she contemplated him as he checked his mobile phone. He was leaning against one of the pillars that formed the gate, obviously dressed as not to attract too much attention though she could see that even wearing dark blue jeans, boots, a dark grey sweatshirt with an orange motive on the chest under the black gilet and a woolen hat which covered his blazing-red hair, some people turned their heads to him, admiration clearly showing in their eyes.

“He's even more gorgeous when up close” Umeko's voice contained a mixture of amusement and admiration, and then, she felt a soft push on the shoulder. “Come on, go and show them that he's taken.”

She turned to her friend, a grateful smile dancing in her lips.

“Thank you very much, Umeko...”

The girl nodded and then winked at her.

“Enjoy your date, and send me a text when you want me to pick you up.”

She made an affirmative sound and then, opened the door of the car.

Umeko observed her as she made her way to her future husband, and how he lifted his face when he sensed her near and smiled. Maybe it was not the smile of someone in love but at least, it was the gesture of a sincerely contented man who appreciated what he was seeing. She smiled satisfied as she used her turn signal and, giving them a last glance, joined the traffic to leave them in their own world.

“I'm glad to see you again” he replied to her formal bow and greeting. “And with not so many witnesses around us.”

She nodded briefly and swallowed hard, not really trusting her voice. Her heartbeat was almost deafening and she was sure that if there was not so much traffic and people walking and chatting around them, he could have heard it clearly.

“Did you have any problems to come today? Did your family said something, or were suspicious?”

“N-No...”

She frowned and berated herself when the first stutter left her lips. It was as if his mere presence rendered her unable to think or move coherently. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to even her breath. He was someone she had never dreamt of being near of, a man who had meant the world to her since she was a teenager. However, he was also a human being, like her, and the person she would share her life with. She had to gather her thoughts and courage, and start treating him, not just as her idol, but as her future husband.

“Are you feeling okay?”

His concerned voice brought her back to reality and she realised that her fear of embarrassing herself in front of him was becoming a reality.

“I'm sorry...”

Shingen looked at her slightly confused, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at her face.

“I'm making a fool of myself...” she lifted her hand and with the back, she touched the burning skin of her cheeks. “I'm really nervous today...”

A tender smile drew across his lips, realising that what for him was something pleasant and quite common like a tryst, for her, it probably was a nerve wracking situation between breaking even more rules imposed to her than just merely escaping to see a concert and being with someone she admired deeply. He recalled her brother's words about his band and himself in the warehouse, and understood that he could not behave as always with his past lovers or friends with benefits. He would have to break her walls one by one, forcefully and at the same time, gently.

“You don't have to apologise” she side-glanced at him. “Just forget about all that, at least for a few minutes” she furrowed her brows in a delicate frown, wondering what he had meant by 'all that' but he continued. “I just want you to enjoy today and, as I told your aunt, to get to know you a bit better” he let out a little sigh. “We're going to get married and I don't even know what your favourite colour is.”

'Even though you probably know everything about me...' the afterthought that flashed in his mind after his own words

She watched him for a few seconds and then, a small, wistful smile appeared on her face.

“You're right” she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin slightly. “I should probably relax a bit and appreciate what Umeko and you are doing for me. It's just...” she paused, giving some thinking to her next words. “I think I'm not used to unwind anymore...”

He observed her for a moment, having a slight suspicion about that pause she had made, but did not say anything about it. Up to that moment, she had not mentioned a thing about him being a famous musician and, even though it intrigued him, especially since he knew how she felt about him, he decided it was not the time to bring up the topic, seeing her finally at ease in his company.

“Okay” he said putting one of his hands on his hip. “Did you think of anywhere you'd like to go?”

“Not really...” her cheeks became a bit warm when he smiled, but she swallowed, reflexively clenching her fingers into fists to suppress the anxious feeling that was, once again, arising in her chest, focusing her thoughts on her words. “You told me that you wanted to take me somewhere special so I didn't really give it too much thought. I'm really fine with any type of food.”

His smile widened.

“I wasn't talking about any restaurants, but about another place I think you'll appreciate much more.”

For a moment, a flash of mischief played in his amber pupils and her aunt's words when she had refused his request of a date with her sounded in her mind. However, she shook her head lightly, refusing to think that had been his purpose since the beginning. She had decided to trust him when she had accepted to go out with him, and that was what she was going to do.

“There's a taxi stop at a short walk from here” he extended his hand to her. “Let's go?”

She stared at it for a moment and then, she pressed her mouth in a thin line, her fingers closing tightly around the handle of her small bag. A single word left her lips and Shingen stared at her curiously.

“That's my favourite colour.”

His smile was wide and sincere, and she found herself answering it with one of her own while she extended her arm put her fingers in his palm. His slightly calloused skin was warm and she felt a pleasant tingle when he took hold of hers, tugging so she would follow him.

They walked at a leisure step, Shingen asking her simple questions about her hobbies and tastes and answering some of hers. From time to time, she glanced around, especially when she felt someone staring at them. She chuckled silently and that drew his attention.

“What's so funny?”

She shook her head.

“Nothing really... I was just thinking that no matter how you disguise yourself, you attract people's attention.”

He grinned at the amused edge of her words and how she had lowered her guard against her own thoughts.

“I know it's not the best one but at least, it conceals my special traits” he brushed the red bangs which sticked out of his woolen hat. “It'll be too much of a bother if they recognised me right away, when all I want is to enjoy this day with you” he watched satisfied as her expression became somewhat disconcerted. “And,” he added. “how do you know that they're not looking at you” he gave her a side smile. “That kimono really suits you.”

A wave of shyness washed over her. It was true that, after thinking and considering clothes for far longer that she had ever done, she had finally opted for her favourite kimono, a tsukesage in shades of purple with a seasonal motive in the hem, the upper part of the back and the sleeves, and as Umeko used to say, it was obvious in every one of her gestures and expressions that she loved to wear it.

However, she had never faced such an open flirting, not even in the only relationship she had had in all her life. Her boyfriend in high school had been easy-going and fun, but he had always felt a bit awkward when they had been in a situation that could lead to a romantic outcome. He had never behaved in any remotely similar way to how Shingen was doing. And she did not know well how to react.

Before she could think of a right way to answer his comment, he stopped, pointing to the row of taxis next to them.

“Come on, let's be quick or we'll be late.”

Instead of a place where they could have more privacy, the taxi stopped at the entrance of a large venue. As she got out of the vehicle, looking at the building with open curiosity, Shingen started rummaging in the bag he carried. He, then extracted two passes.

“Keep this with you all the time” he said giving her one with the logo of his band. “Though... I don't know if the clip will damage your kimono...”

“Don't worry” she replied, taking it from him and observing the little clamp for a moment before securing it in one of the inner wraps of her obi. “The fabric is not very delicate and in case it leaves a mark, nobody will see it there.”

He opened his gilet and hanged it from the belt of his jeans.

“Now we're ready” he took her hand again, pulling her towards the entrance.

“But, where are we going?” she tried to remember if the band had any event that morning, in whose case, he could not have been there with her.

His only response was an enigmatic smile over his shoulder.

They entered the building through a glass automatic sliding door, being greeted by a security guard and some of the venue workers and finally, he stopped just in front of a double door with a small window at the top. He turned and his grin was even wider than before. She inhaled deeply, trying to regain her breath after trying to match his long strides across the hall.

“I talked to our manager so you could watch our rehearsal for tomorrow night's concert” her eyes opened, pure bewilderment flashing in them, regarding him, and her lower lip hung slightly open, feeling unable to react. “After all,” he lowered his voice to barely a whisper. “You're my most precious fan.”

His words sounded deeply inside her and her chin trembled a bit. It was impossible that he knew her secret, she had been extremely careful not to let a single word about him or his band, or her deep admiration for him out, and it was impossible that with such a short time together he could have figured it out.

“Ho... do you know that...?”

“A little bird who loves you dearly showed me a very special room where my lovely fiancee keeps her treasures...”

She was mortified. He had learnt all her deepest secrets without her realising and now she was sure he would definitely feel uncomfortable with her. However, at that moment, her racing mind registered two facts. He had already known by the time they had met, and also, he had just called her 'lovely'...

“Don't look so troubled” he bent over her a bit to take a better look at her face. “He did it because he adores you so don't be too hard on him when you return home.”

She blinked slowly.

“Yahiko...?”

He nodded and was about to add something else when a stingy voice interrupted them.

“Could you cut out the flirting so we can start the rehearsal?” both of them turned , finding a blond man watching them with a disgusted expression.

Shingen gave him a side- looped smile and then, glanced at her, who was still recovering her composure.

“I bet you didn't expect our little angel to have such a sharp tongue. He's always so polite and smiles complacently to the public, but it's better not to be on the wrong side in one of his bad days.”

“So?” he crossed his arms on his chest and glanced at her for a moment with apparent disinterest. “Who's the wrench?” there were murmurs approaching, and behind Ieyasu, a few figures appeared after turning a corner, chatting among them. “It seems that you forgot that outsiders are forbidden after the mayhem with Hideyoshi and his messy double-dating game.”

That comment gained the irated glare of one of the other men who had just stopped by them.

“Don't you dare talk about Hideyoshi like that!”

They both got into an argument immediately and the others groaned, except for a light-built man with short light brown hair, who just smiled.

“And before you ask,” Shingen murmured in a clearly amused tone. “Yes, they're always like that.”

She stared worriedly at them for a few more seconds and then tilted her head upwards.

“Is it really okay for me to be here?”

But before he could answer, a blond man with an almost ethereal presence, turned to them and peered at her with slightly closed eyelids and a pleasant smile.

“And who is this charming lady, little tiger? An acquaintance?”

“She's my fiancée” his expression softened as he glanced at her, watching her cheeks dusted with a soft colour and her fingers grasp the handle of her bag even tighter, as she introduced herself to them.

Silence hung for a long moment in the hall and then, all of them started to talk at the same time, alternating incredulous remarks, the loudest ones from a man with dark hair and a pink T-shirt, with some congratulations and skeptical looks. All those ended when another man entered the scene and put some order. After a new introduction, the man ushered them all inside, indicating the musicians to take their places on the stage and her, a seat in the third row.

Shingen took out his gilet and sweatshirt, under which he wore a dark orange sleeveless T-shirt, leaving all that on the seat next to her. Before straightening and going with his mates, a slow smile drew across his lips and his eyes gleamed with satisfaction, a small spark of untamed passion flickering in them.

“I hope you have the time of your life.”

It was difficult to recognise the meek girl he had met a few weeks ago in the exultant young woman who walked beside him at the moment. Shingen watched her almost fascinated. It was as if every cell of her body was alive and everything, her steps, her posture, her long hair swaying in the gentle breeze, radiated light.

“So,” he said, lifting his brows slightly and pursing his lips momentarily. “I assume that you liked my surprise.”

She turned to him, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed with excitement.

“It was one of the most beautiful things someone has ever done for me” she stopped, facing him and bowing. “Thank you very much, I'll never forget it.”

“Come on,” he said putting a hand in his hip. “Don't be so formal now.”

“But it was something amazing, like a dream coming true. I've heard a whole performance, I've talked with you all and you even invited them to our wedding...” she covered part of her face, trying to hide her embarrassment. “I won't be able to return such an unbelievable gift, even if I had three lives...”

Shingen laughed, watching each and every one of the small changes in her expression. Something inside him wondered how many more layers and expressions she had, and if he would be able to uncover them all.

“You don't have to give anything. I knew it would mean so much to you and it was something really easy to achieve.”

But she was not listening to him.

“Hey...” he insisted.

“I know!” her little outburst startled him. “I'll cook for you.”

He lifted an elegant brow, looking doubtfully at her.

“Do you know how to cook?”

She frowned, her eyes flashing with an offended gleam.

“”What do you take me for?” she crossed her arms over her chest, lifting her chin defiantly. “My father was convinced that you can't manage a food emporium without knowing it in depth. He was a great cook and he taught me well” her eyes misted a bit. “He had started to let Yahiko into the kitchen when... he passed away.”

It still hurt. Even though years had passed, she still missed them dearly and in each step of her life, she wondered what they would do in her place, and if they would have been proud of her. Now that her wedding approached, she wished they would be there to see her become a bride.

Shingen watched the change in her with concern, though he could understand it. His parents were still alive but he had missed the warmth of a true family and she had had it but lost it under tragic circumstances. However, it was easier to live without it not having experienced it than having done it and then being deprived of it.

He touched her back softly, attracting her attention back to him, and offered her a small smile.

“Alright, if you're so convinced, I'd love to try your food.”

She breathed deeply and then returned his smile, nodding.

“Though I have to warn you that my fridge is almost empty. I barely eat at home and when I return at night, I either grab something to eat at the convenience store or buy some take-out.”

She frowned.

“That's not healthy at all” he shrugged lightly and she sighed, a small sound vibrating in her throat. “Okay, I'll make you something really nutritive to give you strength for tomorrow's concert, so first, we have to stop by a supermarket.”

Once they arrived at his flat, he took out his keys from his jeans pocket.

“Welcome to your future home, milady” he said half jokingly opening the door for her to see a spacious hall.

She doubted for a moment, suddenly becoming fully conscious of the place where she was about to enter, and a sense of trepidation overwhelmed her. Shingen gazed at her, expectant at first and uneasy later, as if he was suddenly aware of her feelings. His smile faltered.

“If you're having second thoughts about this, we can still go to eat somewhere. There are some good restaurants in this area that can take us without a reservation” he made a motion to take the shopping bag she was carrying. “Give that to me. I'll put everything in the fridge and Kansuke can sort it out later.”

She shook her head, lifting her eyes to him. Her pupils still showed a hint of insecurity but her expression was serene.

“I'm fine.”

And then, she stepped into the house.

She took off her sandals, putting them correctly out of habit, and then, glanced at him, waiting for him to show her the way. The flat was a luxurious one room duplex with a spacious living room with enormous windows from where they could overwatch great part of the city. On their left, there was a completely equipped open plan kitchen with breakfast bar and beyond, a staircase led to the bedroom. Under the second floor, a half opened Japanese sliding door let her get a glimpse of a large bathroom with an ample vintage bath in the centre.

Shingen watched satisfied as she looked around filled with curiosity, her previous apprehension seemingly vanished.

“This way” he guided her to the kitchen and, after leaving their bags on the breakfast bar, both of them searched through all the cupboards and drawers to find the kitchenware she would need.

“Is there anything you can't eat?” she asked once everything had been placed in an orderly way.

He shook his head and then, leant his weight on the counter beside her.

“Are you sure you don't need any help?”

“Do you know how to cook?” she answered with a question of her own, and then pursed her lips seeing him deny it again. “Then, it's better if I do it alone” she gathered her sleeves. “Do you have anything that could be useful to tie them?”

“Maybe.”

Shingen returned with a male obi tha he had folded in three.

“But I didn't-” she was interrupted when he started to fasten them expertly.

“I don't keep ribbons or anything like that here, so this must do” he saw her open her mouth to reply but was faster. “And if it worries you so much, it's an old one, and made of synthetic fabric, so it's easy to take care of it.”

She sighed, resigned.

“And now, since I only would be in the way, I'll disappear from here and make myself decent.”

And turning around, he took the set of clothes he had left on the breakfast bar and made his way to the bathroom, closing the door behind him and leaving her dumbfounded and with the thought of having her fiancé taking a bath just a few metres away from her.

“This is delicious” Shingen picked up a few more vegetables with his chopsticks and ate them almost greedily, enjoying every single bit.

“I'm glad” she could not help the proud smile as she watched him, picking up a piece of meat from her own plate. He had come out of the bathroom just in time for the food to be served. They were sitting at the dining table he had near the enormous windows that faced the city, the sky a light shade of blue with only a few clouds floating in the distance.

He had changed into another pair of jeans and a long sleeved T-shirt and his red hair, long and luxuriant, fell down his back except for a lock which fell across his shoulder and chest.

He seemed to notice how her eyes returned to it once and again and he smiled, letting his chopsticks on the rest and propping an elbow on the table, his cheek leaning on his hand, some of his tresses following the movement and hanging like a curtain behind his shoulder, the light spreading its reflection on it.

“Anything interesting you care to share with me?”

His smile was flirtatious again, like that morning and a small voice inside her warned her against him. The situation was completely different and now they were alone in his own territory. And he was like a tiger, as Kenshin had called him, elegant, fascinating, tempting and dangerous.

She turned her attention to her own food and took her time to answer, searching for a convincing reason.

“I feel envious” she finally said, setting for the most inofensive reply she had been able to come up in such a short time. “You have really beautiful hair while mine” she took one of her locks, “ is just... normal.”

Before she could drop it, he got a hold of it and slided it down between his fingers, twisting the end loosely in his index.

“It's soft like silk...”

The warning filled her mind again but before she could act on it, he let it fall from his grasp and resumed his meal.

“I hope you can come back to cook for me again soon... It's been long since I had such a satisfying meal like this.”

The young woman smiled, feeling disconcerted at the sudden change in his behaviour and not really trusting her voice at that moment, quickly eating something to fill her silence.

Some minutes later, they finished the main course and she went back to the kitchen to bring tea and some dessert. Shingen widened his eyes in surprise and delight as she put a small plate with a few pieces of kinako mochi in front of him.

“I can't believe you managed to make this feast and my favourite sweets in such a short amount of time.”

“A good cook knows how to organise themselves and their time” she replied sitting down again.

He did not waste a second to try it, and she felt pleased to see his expression of joy. Way before she finished hers, he had eaten everything, not leaving even the smallest piece.

After finishing the tea and, as she showed sign to stand up, he beat her to it and picked up the tableware.

“I can do this” he said with a small smile. “Even I know how a dishwasher works” she laughed softly. “Have some rest while you can.”

He finished tidying everything up quickly, not wanting to waste the minutes they could still be together, but when he returned to the table, he did not find her resting. Instead, she was looking through the window at the city that extended beyond, the outline of the old buildings and pagodas giving the skyline the appearance of a city from a time long gone. Her fingers were barely touching the glass and it was obvious that her mind was far from there. Frowning slightly, wondering what had absorbed her mind so deeply, he stood by her, studying her profile, her long hair falling freely from the hairpin that gathered the top half of her tresses at her nape and the sparkles that the sunlight brought to her eyes.

When he realised it, he had lifted his hand to touch her, but before he could lower it down, she turned her head to him, staring into his eyes, serene and relaxed.

“What were you thinking?” his voice was barely a murmur, low and quiet.

Her cheeks covered in a beautiful shade of pink, but her eyes never wavered.

“That I'll get to see this view and live this life every day once I become your wife.”

Shingen swallowed hard because he knew he was about to give a step forward and he felt slightly uneasy that she would not follow, because a marriage to him was not just a quiet moment and a gold ring and after hours of relishing in the company of each other, sharing what both loved, there was another way of getting to know each other that he wanted to try up to where she let him. His fingertips caressed her warm skin and, maybe reading in his pupils his intention, she smiled softly.

He bent forward slowly to give her time to step back, to stop him, but she did not and he was the one who, stopped just a breath away from her face.

“Have you been kissed before?”

Her cheeks burnt at his question, her eyes searching his questioningly.

“O-Only once... A long time ago...”

He blinked slowly, his golden pupils never truly leaving hers, as he brushed her lower lip with the tip of his thumb in a deliberate caress. Her eyelids fluttered closed and Shingen dropped his finger, replacing it with his mouth, reminding himself to be gentle in that first chaste kiss. Her mouth tasted like the dessert they had eaten a few minutes ago and he felt compelled to try it again. He had barely separated from her when he returned, pressing more urgently against her, his teeth gracing the plump flesh of her mouth. Their breaths mingled as they parted for just a fleeting moment, seeking each other again, his tongue delving between her lips to entice her to follow him without reserves. A small sound left her throat, her fingers grasping the sleeves of his T-shirt when she felt her legs shake and Shingen's arms held her tighter against him. She was almost out of breath, her chest burning when he finally released her, his mouth brushing her cheek, dropping feathered kisses along it.

“You're so adorable... so endearing...”

He nuzzled at her jaw whispering her name and venturing lower. His lips locked on her throat, his teeth gracing her skin. Her heart thundered in her chest, abruptly taking her out of the pleasurable bliss she had been drowning in, and her eyes widened, her hands pushing at his chest.

“No, please...” she begged. “I can't have any... marks...”

He stilled, his mouth leaving her neck. However, he did not move. Instead, she felt the tip of his tongue trace slowly, almost lazily, a small pattern on her skin, making her shiver. Then, he pecked the same spot and lifted his head to look at her. His pupils were darken than before, almost golden like the sunset, a wave of desire still lingering in them. She lowered her head, feeling strangely awkward.

“I'm sorry...”

He cupped her face, his thumbs caressing her cheeks softly.

“Don't” he kissed her once again, briefly. “I just got impatient...”

Shingen leant his forehead against hers as her fingers covered the back of one of his hands.

“If it's a must, we'll wait until our wedding night” a mischievous smirk drew across his lips. “But I warn you that after so much restraining, I won't be letting you sleep at all, so be ready.”

He laughed heartily when she pouted a bit, her cheeks as red as ripped apples, and then, he drew her closer in a loving embrace. Her fingers grasped the back of his T-shirt and she buried her face in his chest.

“I promise you that I'll do whatever in my hand to make you happy.”

“And I'll try my best to become a woman you can fall in love with.”

He kissed the top of her head.

“You're fine as you are now. Your sweet side is charming, as well as the fire and the strength that lie behind it. In your own way, you're a great woman and I'm starting to like her much more than I had imagined at first.”

Her only response was to tighten her hold around him and he thought that they would really be happy, despite the peebles that life had and would be putting in their way. After all, he had a admirable woman beside him, one that he felt he had already started to love.

#slbp #2019SLBPCupidExchange #slbp shingen #michverse #otome0heart #fanfic

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missnmikaelson-main · 5 years

Text

Tabula Rasa: Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries, The Originals or any related media.

Summary: 20.65 centuries… 206.5 decades… 2065 years… 24,780 months… 107,380 weeks… 18,089,400 hours… 1,085,364,000 minutes. It was a long time, so why had it passed in the blink of an eye? One minute she watched her husband die, the next she was lying on something very soft surrounded by strangers.

Warnings: Some chapters will be rated M. These chapters will have warnings at the beginning.

February 2012

Elena laid flat on her back and stared at the ceiling fan as it made slow circles above her head. So much had happened in the last few months that she needed to take some time for her; some time to think.

She still couldn’t fathom what had happened. She couldn’t believe what she had done. That first day as a vampire she had vowed that she would never take a life. She might be a vampire but that didn’t make her a monster.

Damon had been sincere in his desire to turn her back. Along with a professor from one of the local colleges and Bonnie they had learned of a cure for immortality.

The hunter showing up to investigate the deaths of several prominent members of the community had been a fluke. Jeremy being able to see his mark had been a miracle.

It had become clear to the Salvatores that Connor had to die, but Elena still wasn’t sure why she had ended the man’s life. All she knew was that Damon had said it and she’d done it; at the time it was to protect Jeremy, but she had since learned that Connor had never intended to hurt her brother and that Damon had known that.

She had spent a day and a night trying to drown out his voice. She had suffered his emotional abuse and done everything to ignore him, but eventually she had tried to kill herself.

She closed her eyes and reveled in the silence. There was only one voice in her head now.

She supposed she had Jeremy to thank for that. It came with a price though; her brother now wanted to kill her.

If she strained her ears she could make out the argument occuring a floor below. They were still talking about her. They had been talking about her and her ‘condition’ since she’d arrived at the boarding house that afternoon. It didn’t matter if she was in the room or not; they spoke about her as if she wasn’t.

She heard the words ‘sire’ and ‘bond’ being bandied about as she finally drifted into the land of dreams.

“This is it then?” He picked up the shallow bowl and eyed the dark liquid.

“Mmhmm,” she nodded. “Immortality in a bowl…” she tilted her head and took his hand, “… were you thinking of drinking it?”

He smiled and shook his head while pulling her into his chest.

“I should think it would get rather dull,” he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Living forever… while sharing an eternity with you would be wonderful, immortality has its drawbacks. There is something infinitely beautiful in growing old; in knowing any day could be your last.”

“I always thought if I were to live forever,” she glanced at the shallow bowl, “eventually I would stop living.” She rocked back on her heels and lifted a few vials from the edge of the table. “I think eventually she’ll realize that too.”

“You made a cure?” He raised his brows.

“Sometimes people make mistakes,” she shrugged. “They should have a chance to fix it if that is their choice.”

Elena covered her mouth to stifle her shriek and glared. She struggled to de-tangle herself from the mess of blankets.

“Have you ever heard of knocking?” She straightened her camisole. Her feet landed on the smooth floors.

“I did,” Damon chuckled. “You didn’t hear me.”

Elena paced across the room and tore open the door to the marble bathroom. She pulled out her toothbrush and watched him lean against the door frame and cross his arms.

“What do you want Damon?” She spat out her toothpaste. Reaching into the small closet she put a fluffy white towel on the counter. “You’re not joining me in the shower.”

“Just hear me out Elena,” he arched an eyebrow.

Elena crossed her arms and braced her hip on the edge of the walk in shower. “What?” She felt the urge to physically throw him from the room; she was in no mood to talk or listen to anyone right then.

“Bonnie’s professor friend says that there is a cure.” Damon stepped into the bathroom. “It lies with the first immortal, Silas, and when a hunter completes his mark the tattoo forms a map to him.”

“The only way for a hunter to complete their mark is to kill an unknown number of vampires,” Elena rolled her eyes. “That could take years… and then there is the little fact that my brother is not talking to any of us. Even if he was I don’t want him murdering hundreds of people just for me.”

“Bonnie and Shane are working on getting Jeremy to see reason where you are concerned,” Damon sighed. “You know he could just kill one…”

“What exactly are you suggesting Damon?” Elena frowned.

“When an Original dies their bloodline dies with them,” Damon turned towards the door. “The best thing to do would be to kill one of them... probably the one with the stake.”

“Thousands of people, Damon,” Elena grumbled. “Potentially thousands of vampires would die.”

“You know I’m right,” he called from her bedroom door.

Elena shook her head and stripped before stepping under the hot spray of the shower. She was morally opposed to murder, so why had she done it? She loathed the thought of being responsible for the end of a life, so why was she contemplating it?

Three days later Jeremy was proclaimed cured and capable of being around those he considered family and friends again. Damon brought up the idea again in a semi-joking voice, and was unsurprised when Jeremy saw the merits of the plan. Jeremy, however, would not act without his sister’s say so; after all, it would be for her that he did it.

Klaus was the head of her own bloodline; he was the Original she had once despised enough to kill, and the only one whose death would be death sentence for her friends.

Rebekah was just a girl who had grown up too fast. She might have killed Elena, but Elena couldn’t bring herself to even think of killing the blond.

She had nothing against Kol. He was the only Original who hadn’t caused her some sort of physical harm. He had made it his mission to collect every weapon that could harm him and his siblings.

The mere thought of Elijah’s death made her stomach turn violently.

She was morally opposed to murder, so why was she reaching for her phone? If she did this, did she even deserve to be human again?

57 BC

“How is it, sister, that we are identical and yet you are the pretty one?” She straightened her braids and adjusted the basket on her arm.

“You’re pretty,” Amara laid the fruit in the basket while her sister paid the merchant.

“How narcissistic of you to say,” she chuckled.

“We are uncommonly beautiful,” Amara grinned.

“Then why are you the twin turning heads?” She sighed. Her arm linked with Amara’s as they started on the path that would take them home. “Do men think me strange? Am I spending too much time in the garden?”

“Don’t be silly,” Amara bumped her legs with her own basket. “You are beautiful and not in the least bit strange…” she trailed off when she saw the sceptical look, “… alright you’re a little strange, but that’s part of your charm.”

“I’m not scaring men away?”

“Of course not,” Amara grinned. She squeezed her twin’s arm. “Men don’t look at you because they don’t want to waste their time on the sister who is spoken for.”

“I’m not spoken for,” she shook with silent laughter. “Give me your basket; you’ll be late for Qetsiyah. You don’t want to be late for your first day as her handmaid.”

Amara watched her walk up the path and pause to talk to Elias who was heading towards the agora. She spent a moment watching the exchange with a knowing smile before leaving to aid her friend.

“Good evening, mama,” she ground the herbs into a fine powder. Her dark eyes lit up when the older woman entered the small villa.

“Good evening, my darling. What are you concocting this day?”

Her mother leaned over the table to inspect the mixture of herbs and flowers.

“A boundary spell,” she smiled proudly. “Crushed holly, ground foxglove, and heather will make a line that cannot be crossed. If I add in the iris and mix it with a few drops of my blood the line will only block those who would do me harm; those I trust can still enter.”

“You have a real gift.” Her mother smiled. “Have you tested it yet?”

“The first one,” she nodded to a small bag with the mixed powder. “I’m making the second now,” she picked up a small knife, “I thought I’d use the courtyard and see if anyone could approach me.”

“Wouldn’t your blood allow in any who share it?”

“Yes,” she finished mixing the herbs with blood and muttered a spell to dry it into a fine powder, “but I happen to trust those I share blood with. It is the iris that will keep out the ones I distrust, mama. It’s wonderful for protection and intuition.”

“And it bridges the gap between worlds,” her mother grinned.

She poured the powder into a small leather pouch and stepped out into the courtyard. Creating a small circle with a thin line she stood tall and waited. A small smile lifted the edges of her lips when her mother stepped over the line with ease and the cat collided with a mystical barrier.

“Mama,” she ventured after she had cleaned away the spell, “Amara said earlier today that I was spoken for… and that was the reason I have no suitors while she has many.”

“Your sister spoke the truth, darling.”

“I am spoken for? Mama?” She straightened up and crossed her arms. “Why didn’t you tell me? When am I to wed? Who am I to wed?��

“Your father has made the arrangements. Amara must have heard him talking; he only told me the other day.”

“When mama?” She felt tears burning the backs of her eyes.

“You are to be wed in three days,” her mother turned on her heel and began tidying the array of herbs on the work table.

“Three days,” she cried. She stumbled when her baby sister tugged on her skirt. “Not now Cassandra.”

“You’re sixteen.”

“So is Amara,” she relented and picked up the toddler.

“Your sister is not ready to get married yet.”

“And I am?”

“Yes,” her mother sighed. “Don’t fret darling, you’ll be perfectly content.” She reached out and took Cassandra before disappearing down the tiled corridor.

“I’d be happier if you told me who!”

The only reply that came was a tinkling laugh.

Tags: @rissyrapp20 @elejah-wonderland @elejahforever @eternityunicorn @morsmornte @fandomrulesall

#elena gilbert #damon salvatore #amara #tvd #to

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therewillbesparkles · 5 years

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mangas

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orbemnews · 3 years

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Lake Baikal: The bitter battle over tourism at Russia's 'Sacred Sea' The gigantic ancient lake, bigger than all of the Great Lakes of North America combined, encompasses about 23% of the planet’s freshwater reserves and is home to over 2,000 species. It is also the site of a bitter battle between the state, residents, and environmentalists trying to strike a balance between a population dependent on tourism and mass development infringing on a fragile ecosystem. On seeing Baikal for the first time, it’s hard to believe it’s a lake. The crescent-shaped Baikal — 400 miles long and a mile deep — completely freezes in the winter, creating a mirror-like surface of clear ice with no horizon in sight. The stillness of nature and swathing silence, only disrupted by low-pitched groans of cracking ice, is overwhelming. But that serenity is getting harder to find these days, as swarms of tourists encroach ever further. From dusk till dawn, local drivers race on a makeshift ice highway to get their groups to the next scenic spot at the lake’s biggest island, Olkhon, before others take over. A man in a neon-colored snowboarding suit spreads his arms to pose for a picture near a rock formation: an Instagram hit dubbed Dragon’s Tail. A group of women a few feet back yell at him to get out of the way, furious he cut the line and blocked the view. While visitors take selfies, guides gather to divide up areas of clear ice, the tourists’ most sought-after backdrop. In the last decade, Baikal has become Russia’s biggest tourism sensation, especially among travelers from Asia, with visitor numbers growing from hundreds of thousands to almost 2 million in 2019, according to official data. Even amid the coronavirus pandemic, the Russian government encouraged domestic travel to boost the economy, and this winter, the numbers flocking to Baikal doubled compared to previous seasons. The infrastructure, however, is unprepared for this influx. Most areas lack the basic necessities — such as centralized sewage and treatment facilities — necessary to cope with mass tourism. Despite that, illegal hotels have sprung up here — aided by crippling corruption and lack of oversight — bypassing environmental assessments, driving up real estate prices and forcing out locals. An investigation resulted in charges against a local official in 2020, and regional prosecutors periodically crack down on illegal construction, shutting down multi-room hotels registered as private houses. Few are being demolished, however. Places like the village of Listvyanka — on a narrow strip of land sandwiched between the lake and a mountain — welcome visitors with half-constructed hotels and crooked storefronts nesting on top of each other. “What we have as a result is pollution. All this waste water falls into the cesspool and from there goes directly into Baikal,” said environmentalist Vitaly Ryabtsev, pointing to a massive yellowish stain on a frozen river in Listvyanka, right where it flows into the lake. Ryabtsev, who has spent the past 40 years trying to preserve Baikal, says he doesn’t recognize the place anymore, largely because humans have driven out entire species of animals in a matter of a couple of decades. “This is not the place for mass tourism,” Ryabtsev said. “I’d say that the most important measure would be to impose a ban on the further construction of hotels and tourist centers, at least until the existing tourist facilities are put in order.” The results of unregulated human activity are not just an eyesore — they’ve had a very real impact on the lake’s dwellers. Around a decade ago, scientists with the local branch of the Limnological Institute of the Russian Academy of Sciences noticed some odd changes along the shoreline. Spirogyra, a kind of algae that is not typically found in Baikal, began to grow next to some of the most popular tourist spots and spread fast. The scientists quickly saw the algae suck out the life out of other living creatures, harming organisms responsible for cleansing Baikal’s water and covering its bed with green slime. In just a few years, spirogyra covered most of the lake’s bed near places like Listvyanka, prompting the experts to conclude its appearance was a direct result of unfiltered sewage being dumped from new properties. “This alga is like a parasite in a human body, and its massive growth is a clear sign of the disease in this great lake’s ecosystem,” Oleg Timoshkin, a hydrobiologist with the Limnological Institute, said in a lecture. He and his team worry that huge parts of Baikal will be affected if the process accelerates, jeopardizing the lake’s purity. A heritage site under threat For Russians, Baikal has long been a part of their national identity and a source of pride. In 1996, the lake was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site because of its unique flora and fauna and “outstanding value to humanity.” Russian President Vladimir Putin called Baikal’s preservation “a government priority” after a 2017 visit to address pollution issues. But like many other heritage sites, Baikal is facing an array of environmental threats, and some locals question if Russia is prioritizing tourism revenues over conservation. Last New Year’s Eve, Russian environmentalists woke to an unwelcome gift as the authorities issued new legislation rolling back some key protections for the lake. The international coalition Rivers without Boundaries, which took part in a year-long discussion with the state about its proposals, said it was shocked by the eventual legislation. Among other concerns, it allows development in previously untouched areas within Baikal’s municipal zones. “We see that our government, instead of restricting anthropogenic activity around Baikal, moves in a completely different direction,” said the group’s ecologist, Alexander Kolotov. “All recent legislation aims to weaken its environmental protection status.” The group, together with Greenpeace, sent a petition to UNESCO, arguing that Baikal’s protections have been significantly weakened due to “consistent lobbying efforts” from companies looking to expand their businesses around the lake. A large part of Baikal falls under the jurisdiction of the Irkutsk region. In a 2020 government report, the regional tourism body outlined measures to reduce the negative impact of tourism on the environment. But the same report also said “the presence of special environmental restrictions” was a “systematic” problem hindering the tourism industry. Russia’s largest bank, the state-owned Sberbank, is also spearheading an ambitious investment program aiming to build more hotels around Baikal and attract more than 3 million tourists a year by 2024. The new regulations have sent ripples through local communities divided over the benefits and dangers of the tourism boom. Gala Sibiryakova moved away from overcrowded Listvyanka over 15 years ago and settled in the remote village of Khuzhir on Olkhon Island, which has a current population of around 1,600. She remembers Khuzhir to be a quiet place, where locals lived at one with nature and enjoyed unobscured views of majestic Baikal from their small houses. That soon changed. “All this development, construction on all the corners we used to go and loved taking pictures of once — now all of these places are fenced off [by hotels],” Sibiryakova says while walking a pack of white Samoyed dogs. “And the saddest thing is that we used to drink the very tasty Baikal water, but now we cannot drink it; it is no longer clean.” For Sibiryakova, the changes tourism brought into her community are also personal. Her husband Fedor is a native Buryat, belonging to one of the two largest indigenous groups in Siberia. Their eldest daughter is one of the very few people on Olkhon who can still speak and write in the native language. The most sacred place on Olkhon is the Shaman Rock, where many come to make wishes and shamans perform rituals following spiritual practices linking the power of nature and spirits. For a long time no one was allowed close to the rock, but now tour guides have set up portable toilets around it to cater to tourists. “Because of this tourist boom, the land became so expensive, and often locals could not compete with Moscow and foreign entrepreneurs, with Chinese entrepreneurs,” she said. “So we had this displacement of the indigenous people, the local culture disappeared along with local traditions and customs.” At the same time, tourism has undeniably become a source of income for many on Olkhon, especially since the local fish factory was shut down and fishing outlawed. Anna, a street vendor in Khuzhir who refused to give her last name, said she disagreed with the “green” activists and welcomed the easing of restrictions. “We had nothing here just 20 years ago, and now we have electricity, internet, and a steady stream of income. If that’s all taken away, what are we going to do? Where will we work?” In 2019, several hundred Khuzhir residents took to the streets to protest their village’s incorporation into the lake’s existing national reserve zone, worried they’d have to give up their land and businesses because of stricter regulations. Many of them have now welcomed the relaxation of restrictions, hoping it will ease the burden of bureaucratic hurdles. Ryabtsev said the conflict between locals shocked by the impacts of mass tourism and those relying on it to survive has gotten so bad that he now avoids the topic in conversations with Olkhon locals. Sibiryakova believes the anti-green sentiment stems from misinformation. “People were afraid they would be evicted and left with nothing, so they came to protest without really understanding the laws,” she said. “For a long time you couldn’t build a private house but gigantic hotels for some reason had been allowed to build, so they thought it would help, but locals are not better off now.” “I think there just should be some balance. Of course, you can’t totally abolish tourism, Baikal is beautiful, and people need to see it; it would be wrong to deprive them of it,” Sibiryakova added. “But now, for such a huge number of people, there is just not enough space.” Baikal’s ticking bomb Russia has tapped into many of its natural reserves for profit, and its history with Baikal is no exception. In the 1960s, the Soviet government set up Baikalsk Paper and Pulp Mill, which specialized in pulp chemical bleaching, a process known to cause significant environmental damage if its byproducts are released in waterways. Its construction is believed to have sparked the Soviet ecological movement, with activists working for decades to shut down the plant considered the lake’s main polluter. The Russian government long conceded the mill was polluting the lake, but the fear of unrest in Baikalsk, a town born along with the factory and fully dependent on it, kept it alive for years. The outrage over the harmful industry carried over into modern Russia, and the plant was eventually shut down in 2013, but ecological reasons hardly drove the decision. The mill amassed debts, and the business was deemed unviable. The huge dilapidated buildings now stand silent and abandoned, but the danger to Baikal, however, remains. According to the Russian state news agency TASS, the factory’s reservoirs have over half a century accumulated at least 6.5 million tons of dangerous toxic waste — contained to this day in rusty tanks and man-made ponds. Scientists worry that since its abandonment, the mill has become even more dangerous to Baikal, with polluted waste water stretching two kilometers into the lake, compared to about 200 meters seven years ago. “As soon as the storage ponds overflow, streams run into Baikal,” Alexander Suturin, a head scientist with the Limnological Institute of the Russian Academy of Science, told TASS. “Secondly, there is a large amount of accumulated waste water sitting under the site. When the plant was operating, the water was pumped out and discharged to treatment facilities, now there are no treatment facilities, but the contamination remains and is leaking into Baikal.” Local authorities have made efforts to contain tanks or even remove waste water altogether, swapping several contractors, but have so far struggled to find a long-term solution. The latest subcontractor has been tasked with eliminating the waste by 2024, state media reported. Environmentalists like Ryabtsev and Kolotov worry that Russia’s inconsistent environmental policy won’t get to grips with what the past few decades of human activity have already done to unique places like Baikal, which after more than 25 million years of existence could be on a path of irrevocable decline. “We are extremely concerned about this invasion into untouched lands and the UNESCO heritage sites,” Kolotov said. “Russia signed up to protect these sites, but in reality … it turns out these sites sometimes need protection even from those who were supposed to protect them.” Source link Orbem News #Baikal #Battle #bitter #Lake #Russias #sacred #Sea #Tourism

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the-history-of-chocolate · 3 years

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Chocolate in Colonial Times: Consumption

We shift over to Europe and their introduction to this new found crop from Mesoamerica: cacao. Europe had never experienced anything like it before. Compared to Meso-America, how did Europe react to this new crop popping out of the newly docked ships in the harbors. Spain had started consuming cacao just like the Mexicas did; however, they did not like the bitter taste, so they added sugar and even honey to add a sweeter taste making it more consumable. They quickly added many more ingredients to see how they could improve the quality: almonds, eggs, or milk were added; they would also consume it hot made with water. Just like the Mexica, the nobility was able to drink proper chocolate. They would go to Tertulias, where they would discuss current events, politics, the arts, or social events. In Italy, cacao beans were toasted, crushed, and infused with jasmine flowers before being ground with sugar, vanilla, and ambergris. France’s Anne of Austria had brought chocolate as an engagement present. The Spanish had sent French monks chocolate as a gift. The French would serve either coffee or chocolate in their 380 chocolate houses they established. The UK had started advertising chocolate in the newspaper and even included them in cookbooks. They would attend chocolate houses that were strictly known as men’s clubs. Consumption was much more common, while the rest of Europe, only the elite and rich could consume the new concoction. Just like the Mexica, cacao was a social marker. Only those who could afford chocolate could consume it. It became the official marker of wealth and status in Baroque Europe. Unlike today, it was considered a luxury item; it was popular in mansion courts and palaces. Versailles, for example, regularly served chocolate during feasts and banquets. Since only the elite could consume chocolate, this reinforced hierarchies. The wealthier they were, the more chocolate they could afford.

Consumption was similar to Mesoamerica; however, they would add ingredients that would fit their palates much better. They would add sugar and honey for a sweeter taste as regular drinkable chocolate was naturally bitter. They soon added cinnamon, Anise seed, and black pepper. How they would prepare the chocolate drink is, they would mix the chocolate with the spices they wanted into a paste and according to Loveman, “the resulting paste was then made into tablets or left to harden in small boxes. Spanish ways to prepare the drink included adding a little warm water to the paste and stirring it with a "molinet" before adding more hot water and sugar” (Loveman, 30). A Molinet was a tool that was designed to whip chocolate, creating the froth at the top.

Unlike the Mesoamericans, the Europeans stripped all spiritual meaning and ritual from cacao; however, they did maintain the status that cacao gave royalty. Europeans did see the medicinal qualities of chocolate. Depending on their ailment, their organs and temperaments would tell them which of their humors was imbalanced, given the name Humoral Theory. Since cacao was cold and moist, it was best for hot weather consumption. Chocolate was dry and hot and it would help in the ailments in the chest and of the stomach. The Humoral theory was disproven in the 17th century. Chocolates attributes to curing cough, inflammation, obstructions, aid in digestion, clean one’s teeth, and aid in inducing conception.

Debates soon became the norm to the church about whether or not cacao was a food or drink because of the religious practice of fasting. Chocolate was ideal for fasting as it was very filling, but people still believed that it broke fast. The Dominicans said that it broke the fast, however, the Jesuits said that it did not. In 1591, Juan de Cardenas argued that there were 2 types of drinks: anything that was drinkable and any liquids that are intended to quash the thirst. For the first interpretation you can puree anything and make it a liquid. The second one refers specifically to water. Chocolate was in the first category and fasting was meant to mortify the flesh, so consuming chocolate broke the fast. The pope consulted and he argued that it did not break fast, but priests insisted that chocolate was nourishment. Antonio Leon de Pinello in the 1630s wrote a book stating that it depended on the ingredients being used in the drink; if it was made with water, it was okay to drink during fast. Chocolate was also labeled as a sinful food believing that it had a connection with the Devil. It was also connected with 3 of the 7 deadly sins: greed, gluttony, and lust. Women had a strong connection with chocolate. women would often bring chocolate as an offering to the church; however, the bishop would not accept women entering the church, but would take the chocolates with them. That same bishop would later die and people believed that he had eaten chocolate laced with poison. They were also connected with witchcraft and crime. Chocolate was used by women to control men because men believed that it was prepared by exotic women in the New World. It also had a connection to sex. It was considered an Aphrodisiac. Aztec emperors would drink chocolate before having sex. It would help with erectile dysfunction and could assist with pregnancy. A person named Marquis de Sade would frequently consume chocolate before having orgys; he was later convicted of rape, sodomy, and assault. While in prison, he would request his wife chocolate to be sent to him to show others that he was very wealthy, connecting back to how the Aztecs also saw cacao as, a status symbol. The Europeans would soon create different tools that would help them prepare their chocolate drinks, such as: the molinillo (mixing tool that would froth the drink), chocolatiere pot, and the mancerina. From this point onward, all meaning of what cacao’s had left of its identity was stripped away; at first it was used as a medicine, but now it is seen as a food.

Meanwhile in the Americas, Venezuela was consumed as rough, ready, and bitter called Cerrero; it was dissolved in water without sweetener and it was able to be consumed by all. In pre-hispanic times, the it was called chorote made by boiling ground cacao in a pot and letting it cool until the top layer of cacao butter could be removed and set aside. What remained was a thick layer of cacao solids at the bottom and there a clear liquid that was poured off leaving the solids to be shaped into little balls that could be later dissolved into water with sugar. In Colombia, spiced chocolate was the first thing they would eat in the morning. In Peru, they made froth and consumed it with bread and cheese. There was a chocolate guild that petition the city to propose an ordinance that would have fix prices for cacao. They wanted to put restrictions on chocolate to avoid competition by unlicensed sellers. Banned ingredients such as sesame, allspice, and ground corn; the very limited accepted ingredients were cacao, vanilla, white sugar, and real cinnamon.

As cacao was being shipped to Europe, there was a massive change in how it was consumed, made, and lost its religious meaning that Mesoamerica once gave cacao. It was not only consumed as medicine, it later turned into a regular consumable food item. Having invented tools to improve the making of chocolate drinks, Europeans were on the verge of industrialization of production, but first, we will see the production in the Americas.

#https://www.nationalgeographic.com/history/magazine/2016/01-02/chocolate-in-europe/#Loveman Kate. The Introduction of Chocolate into England: Retailers Researchers and Consumers 1640-1730 Vol. 47 no. o. 1 2013 pp. 27–46.

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networkingdefinition · 4 years

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Jewelry Quotes

Official Website: Jewelry Quotes

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• A girl could never have too much jewelry or too much weaponry. – Laurell K. Hamilton • A little man is running a jewelry store. A man runs in saying, Okay, take my watch, put on a new band, install a new battery, clean the case, install a new crystal, and tune it up. I will be back in a half hour for it. Thanks! and runs out the door. The little jeweler says, C-C-C-Come in? – Henny Youngman • A lot of the jewelry that I wear are fan gifts because they’re so awesome and they give me great presents. – Taylor Swift • A man can do a television interview and roll out of bed 15 minutes before; it’s just not the same for a woman. A woman has to pay attention to her hair, makeup, clothing, and jewelry choices. – Michele Bachmann • A man’s got two shots for jewelry: a wedding ring and a watch. The watch is a lot easier to get on and off than a wedding ring. – John Mayer • A piece of jewelry is in a sense an object that is not complete in itself. Jewelry is a ‘what is it?’ until you relate it to the body. The body is a component in design just as air and space are. Like line, form, and color, the body is a material to work with. It is one of the basic inspirations in creating form. – Art Smith • A woman needs ropes and ropes of pearls. – Grace Kelly • Accessories are crucial. A great bag and a piece of statement jewelry are the fastest way to elevate an otherwise understated look. – Ivanka Trump • Accessories are important and becoming more and more important every day. They can completely change the look of an outfit, and women like the idea of having a wardrobe that’s versatile. For instance, a strong piece of jewelry can make a simple outfit look elegant. – Giorgio Armani • Adversity is the diamond dust Heaven polishes its jewels with. – Thomas Carlyle • All my jewelry has stories. – Eva Green • Always make sure your jewelry isn’t taking over you or your ensemble and keep everything in proportion to your frame – Nina Garcia • Another thing rappers, I admire your rebellious spirit, but materialism is a form of mental slavery. Slow down on the jewelry, pick up a book. – Dov Davidoff • Any girl who was a lady would not even think of having such a good time that she did not remember to hang on to her jewelry. – Anita Loos • As I get older, I use less jewelry – necklace or earrings each morning, not both; my clothes are getting more basic – fewer colours and simpler cuts; and my make-up is stripped back to basics. – Tracy Chevalier • At a flea market I always head for the junk jewelry table first. – Ethel Merman

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'product', keywords: 'Jewelry', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_jewelry').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_jewelry img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Be careful with the man jewelry. A little goes a long way. – Ashton Kutcher • Biography is the medium through which the remaining secrets of the famous dead are taken from them and dumped out in full view of the world. The biographer at work, indeed, is like the professional burglar, breaking into a house, rifling through certain drawers that he has good reason to think contain the jewelry and money, and triumphantly bearing his loot away. – Janet Malcolm • But I do mean to say, I have heard her declare, When at the same moment she had on a dress Which cost five hundred dollars, and not a cent less, And jewelry worth tem times more, I should guess, That he had not a thing in the wide world to wear! – William Allen Butler • But the Milanese have made bad choices, bad fashion, and bad jewelry. – Christian Lacroix

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• Cool! Now I can steal some rich old coot’s Ferrari and go fishing for marlin with the same piece of jewelry. – Jennifer Rardin • Costume jewelry is not made to give women an aura of wealth, but to make them beautifu – Coco Chanel • Customized jewelry is one of my targets with Bold Machines. – Bre Pettis • Death, jewelry, or magic; it sounded like Valentine’s Day. – Laurell K. Hamilton • Decide which you want to play up: your clothing or your jewelry, but not both. Let one be the star and one the supporting player. – Padma Lakshmi • Do not judge from mere appearances. – Edwin Hubbel Chapin • Do not judge men by mere appearances; for the light laughter that bubbles on the lip often mantles over the depths of sadness, and the serious look may be the sober veil that covers a divine peace and joy. – Edwin Hubbel Chapin • Donald Trump participated in something known as the empty box scam. He bought $65,000 worth of jewelry from Bulgari across the street from Trump Tower, and had the record show that it was mailed to him in an out-of-state address. Now, if you’re not a New York resident, you may not have to pay sales tax if the jewelry is mailed to you in another state. The problem is, they were empty boxes. It was proven. – Hillary Clinton • Even if heaven were real, and measured as Revelation says, so many cubits this wayand that, how gimcrack a place it would be, crammed with its pavements of gold, its gates of pearl and topaz, like a gigantic chunkof costume jewelry. – Margaret Laurence • Every day of my adult life, I have worn at least one piece of jewelry from my maternal grandmother’s collection, all of which were manufactured by famed Danish silversmith Georg Jensen. To the naked eye, I am either a Jensen loyalist or a grandmother loyalist. Really I am just a Pretty Things loyalist.- Sloane Crosley • Flowers that are so pathetic in their beauty, frail as the clouds, and in their coloring as gorgeous as the heavens, had through thousands of years been the heritage of children – honored as the jewelry of God. – Thomas de Quincey • For me accessories create and define a woman’s personal style. The bag she carries, the watch on her wrist, her jewelry, her sunglasses, her shoes all define a look that is her signature. For Spring 2014, my accessory collections are about a clean, graphic boldness creating a new dimension redefining modern classics. – Ralph Lauren • For me the diamond dawns are set In rings of beauty. – John Townsend Trowbridge • For me, hair is an accoutrement. Hair is jewelry. It’s an accessory. – Jill Scott • Funny, I never shopped. Even my jewelry – not a piece of my jewelry I bought for me. – Imelda Marcos • Give crowns and pounds and guineas But not your heart away; Give pearls away and rubies, But keep your fancy free. – A. E. Housman • Gold, unlike all other commodities, is a currency…and the major thrust in the demand for gold is not for jewelry. It’s not for anything other than an escape from what is perceived to be a fiat money system, paper money, that seems to be deteriorating. – Alan Greenspan • Guard well your spare moments. They are like uncut diamonds. Discard them and their value will never be known. Improve them and they will become the brightest gems in a useful life. – Ralph Waldo Emerson

• He hits the ball 130 yards and his jewelry goes 150. – Bob Hope • Hollywood liberals could not be reached for comment on the cost of the inauguration because they were being fitted for gowns and jewelry worth millions of dollars in anticipation of Oscar night. – Ann Coulter • I am happy to receive any items of jewelry. – Katie Price • I am not big on jewelry, but I do love hats as an accessory, specifically snap backs and beanies. – Jourdan Dunn • I believe in trying foods from all over the world, going to markets and finding jewelry and furniture and just treating myself well. It’s important for me creatively to travel. – Crystal Renn • I collect jewelry for a story – so something I got on a trip or something I got from my family. You know it always needs to have a meaning for me. – Julia Restoin Roitfeld • I didn’t mind giving up carnality, jewelry and red meat in return for comradeship and an afterlife. – Margaret Millar • I don’t buy jewelry just for the aesthetic side. – Julia Restoin Roitfeld • I feel naked without jewelry. – Olivia Thirlby • I had a strong identity in mind but then of course I had to trust Didier Dubot’s expertise. They’ve been doing jewelry for so many years. – Julia Restoin Roitfeld • I had much rather be adorned by beauty of character than by jewels. Jewels are the gift of fortune, character comes from within. – Plautus • I had very good dentures once. Some magnificent gold work. It’s the only form of jewelry a man can wear that women fully appreciate. – Graham Greene • I hate imitation jewelry, dark lipstick and most of all a shrill voice. This has spoiled many a picture of feminine loveliness. – Ray Milland • I have been making wire jewelry – and think I’ll really do something with it, eventually. – Alexander Calder • I have seen women looking at jewelry ads with a misty eye and one hand resting on the heart, and I only know what they’re feeling because that’s how I read the seed catalogs in January. – Barbara Kingsolver • I have tons of jewelry. I like to wear a lot of it – Amber Tamblyn • I hope that when girls see my clothes, my shoes, or my outrageous jewelry collection, they feel the thrill of wanting more for themselves too. I love what my friend Andre Leon Talley said: “If you are successful, people want to see it. They want to share in your dream”. – Kimora Lee Simmons • I hope that women everywhere will wear this jewelry and feel the passion and love that is, to me, the real spirit of True Harmony. – Carol Alt • I just love clothes! I’m a girl who loves clothes, accessories, shoes, bags and jewelry. – Kelly Rowland • I like black for clothes, small items, and jewelry. It’s a color that can’t be violated by any other colors. A color that simply keeps being itself. A color that sinks more somberly than any other color, yet asserts itself more than all other colors. It’s a passionate gallant color. Anything is wonderful if it transcends things rather than being halfway. – Yana Toboso • I like colonic irrigation because sometimes you find old jewelry.- Joan Rivers • I like jewelry. Big rings, big necklaces. Shoes, belts, luggage. – Janel Parrish • I like to be dressy casual. I wear jeans and nice sneakers. I wear nice clothes, but not super dressed up. I don’t wear too much jewelry. I keep it simple and maybe wear just a little chain. – Vinny Guadagnino • I love how significant jewelry is throughout the world and throughout time. People have been adorning themselves with jewelry for years and its one of the oldest forms of art and design. This is something that has and will always inspire me. – Pamela Love • I love jewelry – rings, earrings, bracelets, necklaces, you name it. – Sofia Vergara • I love photography. I like to write. I like coaching. I’ve made jewelry. I’m very creative. – Diandra Asbaty • I love rewriting because that is where and how you discover the story. Its like you have this skeleton, and you get to put flesh on it and hair and clothes and really wonderful jewelry. – Caroline Leavitt • I love rhinestones, faux jewelry. – Adriana Trigiani • I love to be casual and comfortable, but I also love the easy glamour of wearing jewelry all the time. – Elizabeth Taylor • I love to shop. Clothes, electronics, and I love jewelry, especially yellow gold. – Apolo Ohno • I make jewelry occasionally. I’m not a hobbyist. I’m a reader, I’m a lover of books, I like to watch movies, but mostly a lot of nothing. I’m quite content doing very little. – Janeane Garofalo • I might not wear chains or I may just wear a watch or I may not wear any jewelry at all or I may just go all out on an outfit or just rock some basic s*** just a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and ones. But, I still standout more than a lot of people in the room so I can’t really describe it but I know from the outside looking in people can explain better than I can. – Lil Herb • I never had a fondness for gems or the extravagance of Harry Winston or Van Cleef & Arpels. I’ve always liked the more flamboyant, imaginative things. I lusted after costume jewelry. My husband was a very lucky man. – Iris Apfel • I obviously have a great love and appreciation of jewelry, thanks to my mother, much to the dismay of both my father and my boyfriends. – Ivanka Trump • I really just appreciate good jewelry, clarity, gold. I think gold is made for kings and pharaohs – that’s what I am. That’s why I rock gold and, you know, stuff like that. – Big Sean • I really learned a lot from collecting clothes because I got to go back into the history of fashion and fashion photography and jewelry. It changed how I felt about fashion and about what I did forever because I used to look a little bit down on myself for it. – Stephanie Seymour • I really love Paul Smith. And Chrome Hearts. They make the most beautiful, high-end leather and outerwear and jewelry you’ve ever seen. But I’m not a big fan of shopping. I certainly am a fan of clothes and especially people that put time into the construction of them. – Dean Winters • I remember opening my dad’s closet and there were, like, 40 suits, every color of the rainbow, plaid and winter and summer. He had two jewelry boxes full of watches and lighters and cuff links. And just… he was that guy. He was probably unfulfilled in his life in many ways. – Jon Hamm • I remove my wedding rings and put them in the jewelry box. So many others have done this. I am not the only one. I am not the only one. But here, I am the only one. – Elizabeth Berg • I think it’s a tribute to the artistic importance of hip-hop culture and what hip-hop has brought into music and fashion and jewelry that it is being adapted or imitated or is inspiring variations or new types of art or new types of music. – Simon de Pury • I think I’ve revived the costume-jewelry industry. – Madeleine Albright • I think jewelry can change an outfit more than anything else. Transformation, punch, individuality: One or all of the above are why you should wear jewelry. – Iris Apfel • I think swag is very important to rappers. It’s the overall appearance and style of an artist – these blue shorts and this blue hat and this $80,000 chain, this jewelry and all these tattoos, that’s swag. – Soulja Boy • I think that the lack of intuition in fashion today is one of the most dangerous things. My fear is that our business is turning into a bag business, and it’s all about the bag. But it’s not only about the bag. It’s about the women. And it’s not about a bag or a shoe or the jewelry. It’s only about women. . . . Being almost politically correct and doing only what you expect without the ability to make mistakes is very dangerous to fashion. We have to go with our heart. We have to go with our intuition. – Alber Elbaz • I think there is going to be a whole market and we’ll start to see hip-hop jewelry regularly in jewelry auctions around the world. Therefore, anybody who gets on the train early can only do well financially in the long run. – Simon de Pury • I treat clothing or a piece of jewelry like it was a piece of art. – Daphne Guinness • I used to collect vintage clothing – exquisite lace dresses, embroidered shawls and ornate jewelry – but that’s just not me any more. – Britt Ekland • I used to think that if I had success I would have freedom. But I have less freedom now than I’ve ever had. And what gives me satisfaction is not the jewelry and not the cars. What gives me satisfaction is doing things for others, like children. – Criss Angel • I want a chainsaw very badly, because I think cutting down a tree would be unbelievably satisfying. I have asked for a chainsaw for my birthday, but I think I’ll probably be given jewelry instead. – Susan Orlean • I will not go out with a man who wears more jewelry than me, and I’ll never, ever go to bed with a guy who calls me Babe. Other than that, however, I’m real flexible. – Linda Sunshine • I won’t wear rings and jewelry on the stage because I don’t want you looking at my hands. I want you hearing what I’m saying. – Mavis Staples • I’m busy sorting through our new collection of rhinestone jewelry. Should anyone be in the market for sparkly accessories the size of a hubcap, this is the place to get them. Earlier today, a customer picked up one of the enormous chandelier-style offerings and asked, ‘Do those be genuine rhimestones?’ I couldn’t even begin to explain everything that was wrong with her sentence, so I simply replied, ‘Yes. They do be genuine. – Jen Lancaster • I’m reminded of a book my father used to read me,” she said. “A bunch of elves and things get into a huge war over a piece of jewelry that everybody wants but nobody can wear. – Daniel Handler • If a girl says not to get her a birthday present that means get me a birthday present and make sure it’s jewelry. – Kami Garcia • If I go up to Harlem or down to Sixth Street, and I’m not dressed up or I’m not wearing my jewelry, then the people feel I’m talking down to them. People expect to see Mrs. Astor, not some dowdy old lady, and I don’t intend to disappoint. – Brooke Astor • If I’m not feeling good, I load on jewelry. It gives me energy and makes me feel happy. – Kate Hudson • If there was a choice on spending a lot of money on accessories or dress, I always chose accessories. I think jewelry can change an outfit more than anything else. – Iris Apfel • If you don’t know jewelry, know the jeweler. – Warren Buffett • If you don’t know the Jewelry, know the Jeweller – Warren Buffett • If you don’t want people to look at you, Park had thought at the time, don’t wear fishing lures in your hair. Her jewelry box must look like a junk drawer. – Rainbow Rowell • If your dad is anything like mine, then you have no clue what to buy him for Father’s Day. The only Father’s Day tradition in my family is the annual conversation he and I have where I say, ‘Hey, Dad, what do you want for Father’s Day this year?’ and he says, ‘Nothing.’ Then I ask my mom what I should get him and she says, ‘He likes sandalwood soap, dangly jewelry and Chanel No. 5 perfume.’ – Michael Showalter • I’ll work for whoever wants to hire me. Even the jewelry channel. – Dylan Moran • I’m a big rings person…and bracelets…and earrings. I love all of it [Laughs]. One time, I was getting off an airplane and I had been traveling for like a month in Europe, and I came from the airplane right to my mom’s house who I hadn’t seen in awhile, and she looked at me and she goes, “Is it possible to fit any more jewelry on you? Is that actually possible?” And I looked down and, because when I travel I don’t like to pack my jewelry so I end up wearing a ton of it, and I had just had everything on me. And I love buying jewelry when I travel – so there was a lot. – Kate Hudson • Im a hard worker, and everything with me is, if I work hard, I should get paid for it. Everything with me, I try to symbolize something flashy like jewelry or a car. The rubbing hands is a symbol of hustling, so it goes back to the money. – Birdman • I’m crazy about jewelry; swimwear and jewelry. – Candice Swanepoel • I’m going to get up every morning at 6:30 to work out. Then, when I’ve kept with it all week, I give myself something I really want, like a new handbag or a piece of jewelry I’m coveting. – Molly Sims • I’m just disillusioned with the hip-hop sound right now. It’s too materialistic. You know, I’m the kind of guy … I can’t do that. If you track my movement, you’ll never see a picture of me with any girl that wasn’t mine, or my own car. My jewelry, my clothes. What kind of gangsta rapper has a stylist? A stylist?! – Ice T • I’m listening to Gogol Bordello, which is totally random, but I love him. Just finished the new Joan Didion book, Blue Nights, which I loved. I haven’t been to the movies in God knows how long. I haven’t been doing anything but living in a bubble, making jewelry! – Pamela Love • I’m not a huge jewelry fan. – Felicity Jones • I’m not into jewelry. I’ve got some earrings but they’re not too expensive. There are guys who drop a hundred grand for a chain. The public’s got it right – a lot of NBA stars are arrogant and like to spend lots of money and have lots of girlfriends and all that. – Andrew Bogut • I’m not normally a jewelry person. I’m supposed to be a working class champion and all, and I don’t like to rub my success in people’s faces. – Bubba Sparxxx • Imagine wasting all that perfectly good anger on paranoid fantasies. Not since Emily Litella got upset about “Soviet jewelry” has there been such a waste of anger. You will notice a certain theme to these Emily Litella Moments. Behind them all is a touching faith that someone, somewhere is actually in charge of what’s happening – a proposition I beg leave to doubt. – Molly Ivins • In a way, there’s nothing more intimate than a piece of jewelry. A painting is hung on somebody’s wall. You put a piece of furniture in your home. But jewelry is worn by a person, so there is a fascination with the history of a piece. – Simon de Pury • In both business and personal life, I’ve always found that travel inspires me more than anything else I do. Evidence of the languages, cultures, scenery, food, and design sensibilities that I discover all over the world can be found in every piece of my jewelry. – Ivanka Trump • I’ve always loved the fashion of the ’30s and everything that came with the Art Deco era – the jewelry and the glamour. – Emmy Rossum • I’ve been designing my own pieces for a long time. My mother’s a jewelry designer, so we knew at some point we were going to do a line and dive into the fashion world. – Christian Serratos • I’ve been on a plane before with more money in jewelry than my life insurance policy, and it’s one of the scariest feelings in the world… if you lose it, you have to pay for it yourself, and you don’t even get to keep it! – Rumer Willis • I’ve borrowed tons of jewelry. Most people [in Hollywood] do. But it’s your responsibility to keep track of it. – Rumer Willis • I’ve never in my life bought a big piece of jewelry – like, ‘I’m gonna get myself a big piece of jewelry!’ Songwriters’ lives are unstable and up and down. Even though mine has sort of has followed more of a going toward the sky trajectory. – Kara DioGuardi • I’ve read about all the sales today. If you’re an auto dealer, you’re feeling it. If you’re a furniture retailer like we are, you’re feeling it. If you’re a jewelry retailer, you’re feeling it. I know some of these businesses because we’re in them. Yeah, it’s being felt, but it will be felt big time more if we don’t do something about it, what’s going on. – Warren Buffett • I’ve teamed up with BaubleBar to curate a collection of gorgeous jewelry pieces. I worked closely with the BaubleBar team to design a collection that encompasses my style and all of my go to pieces. – Ashley Madekwe • Jewellery takes people’s minds off your wrinkles. – Sarah Phillips • Jewelry and pins have been worn throughout history as symbols of power, sending messages. Interestingly enough, it was mostly men who wore the jewelry in various times, and obviously crowns were part of signals that were being sent throughout history by people of rank. – Madeleine Albright • Jewelry is fine on some guys, but it’s not for me. – Ross Kemp • Jewelry is incredibly feminine, and reflects the grace and beauty of a women’s style like nothing else. – Ivanka Trump • Jewelry is something that has to do with emotion. That aspect of jewelry really interests me. – Ann Demeulemeester • Jewelry is the most transformative thing you can wear. – Iris Apfel • Jewelry should not upstage you. I pick one hot point on my body that I’m going to highlight. Let one area do the singing – you don’t want to hear three songs at once. – Padma Lakshmi • Jewelry takes people’s minds off your wrinkles. – Sonja Henie • Jewelry, to me, is a pain in the derriere, because you have to be watching it all the time. – Eartha Kitt • Kindness is not something that we put on for certain occasions, like a piece of jewelry; rather, it is an attribute of God’s that He desires to reproduce in us. – Charles Stanley • Knowledge cannot be stolen from us. It cannot be bought or sold. We may be poor, and the sheriff may come and sell our furniture, or drive away our cow, or take our pet lamb, and leave us homeless and penniless; but he cannot lay the law’s hand upon the jewelry of our minds. – Elihu Burritt • Lust is the sin that gets me excited. Luckily, because I’m married, I also get really good jewelry out of it. – Heather Locklear • Marco Polo had seen the inhabitants of Zipangu place rose-colored pearls in the mouths of the dead. A sea-monster had been enamoured of the pearl that the diver brought to King Perozes, and had slain the thief, and mourned for seven moons over its loss. – Oscar Wilde • McCain was introduced at the convention last night by his wife — I won’t say ‘trophy wife’ — but she did $300,000 worth of clothes and jewelry on, no matter to the party of the little guy. But Cindy McCain talked about how his character, honor and integrity made him the exact kind of married man she was looking to pick up at a bar. – Bill Maher • Men who have a pierced ear are better prepared for marriage – they’ve experienced pain and bought jewelry. – Rita Rudner • Mock jewelry on a woman is tangible vulgarity. – Bayard Taylor • My approach to jewelry has always been to keep it very simple, but if you want to wear something, make sure it is exquisite and lovely and will stand out. – Sophie Cookson • My dad was a jingle writer, and my mom was a jewelry designer and musician. – Reeve Carney • My everyday look has definitely become more low maintenance, but accessories are everything. A structured bag, statement jewelry or a cute scarf can add polish to any outfit! – Adriana Lima • My favorite jewelry, it’s just what I’m feeling at the time. – Erykah Badu • My favourite thing in my wardrobe is my jewelry. – Kate Reardon • My grill is intended to be discreet. It’s there because I enjoy jewelry. – Jill Scott • My husband gave me a necklace. It’s fake. I requested fake. Maybe I’m paranoid, but in this day and age, I don’t want something around my neck that’s worth more than my head. – Rita Rudner • My inspiration is always love and history, and my passion to a fault is craftsmanship and responsibility. Those are the simplest things. It goes beyond jewelry. It’s every part of my life. – Waris Ahluwalia • My parents were glad to see that my new husband looks like a ‘regular guy’-no earring or anything. But really I think a man with an earring is better prepared for marriage. I mean, he’s already experienced pain and bought jewelry. – Rita Rudner • My style is ghetto chic. I love tacky jewelry, mega heels, high-waisted shorts, catsuits. – Jessie J • My years of living the jet-set life were fun, but they weren’t fulfilling. The perks and benefits were lovely, but all of the fabulous furs, fancy jewelry and fun fetes simply weren’t enough to fill my soul. – Sandra Lee • Next to gold and jewelry, health is the most important thing you can have. – Phyllis Diller • Nice jewelry and a boys corpse. Oh you’re so pretty. – Koushun Takami • Not on one strand are all life’s jewels strung. – William Morris • Not the brightest gem in the jewelry shop, but you’ve got to admire his single-minded dedication to drug abuse. – John Green • Nothing in life is fun for the whole family. There are no massage parlors with ice cream and free jewelry. – Jerry Seinfeld • Seriously. Who needed a real lover when you had a handsome, affectionate man who adored you, put a beautiful house over your head, gave you a great job, lavished you with fabulous clothes, shoes, purses and jewelry and would never break your heart? – Kristen Ashley • She is mine own, And I as rich in having such a jewel As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl, The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold. – William Shakespeare • Some say the economy means that you have to persuade people to invest in clothes – to buy less things but more expensive things. I disagree – invest in jewelry, or a house, maybe, but not in fashion. – Donatella Versace • Studing jewelry gives you an incredible technical background. If you can work on very, very small things, then, I think, typically you find it easier to go bigger rather than the other way around. I think a lot of architects have struggled with small things. Whereas if you start small, it’s easier to get bigger. – Marc Newson • Sun and moon have no light left, earth is dark; Our women’s world is sunk so deep, who can help us? Jewelry sold to pay this trip across the seas, Cut off from my family I leave my native land. Unbinding my feet I clean out a thousand years of poison, With heated heart arouse all women’s spirits. Alas, this delicate kerchief here Is half stained with blood, and half with tears. – Qiu Jin • Sweet are the uses of adversity which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, wears yet a precious jewel in his head. – William Shakespeare • That whole week, we started to divide things into those two categories: anything or something. A piece of jewelry bougth at a department store: anything. A piece of jewelry made by hand: something. A dollar: anything. A sand dollar: something. A gift certificate: anything. An IOU for two hours of starwatching: something. A drunk kiss at a party: anything. A sober kiss alone in a park: something. – David Levithan • The best legacy you could leave is not some building that is names after you or a piece of jewelry but rather a world that has been impacted and touched by your presence, your joy, and your positive actions. – Jon Gordon • The children break all my jewelry, so everything I wear is cheap – from Topshop or Dorothy Perkins. – Sally Phillips • The countless gold of a merry heart, The rubies and pearls of a loving eye, The indolent never can bring to the mart, Nor the secret hoard up in his treasury. – William Blake • The difference between false memories and true ones is the same as for jewels: it is always the false ones that look the most real, the most brilliant. – Salvador Dali • The earth is like a beautiful bride who needs no manmade jewels to heighten her loveliness. – Khalil Gibran • The Female Once-Over – a process by which one woman creates a detailed profile of another woman based upon about a million subtle details of clothing, jewelry, makeup, and body type, and then decides how much of a social threat she might be. Men have a parallel process, but it’s binary: Does he have beer? If yes, will he share with me? – Jim Butcher • The grossest form of this injury of the body to ornament it, is in tattooing. Next, the piercing the ear all around its rim, piercing the nose and the lips to introduce rings or bars of jewelry. – Julia McNair Wright • The jewelry business is a very, very tough business – tougher than the computer business. You truly have to understand how to take care of your customers. • The jewelry stores say, ‘Tell your wife you love her with a diamond,’ while wives tell you they love you with, ‘Ok, but just because it’s Valentine’s Day.’ – George Lopez • The kinds of things I like with crystals are the really beautiful costume jewelry, vintage pieces, and they usually have that diamond shape. – Zoe Kravitz • The leather vests are work vests, supposed to look like factory workers. They’re actually the vests we use in the studio when we make jewelry. – Pamela Love • The most precious jewels are not made of stone, but of flesh. – Robert Ludlum • The only gift my dad ever bought me is still in my jewelry box. It died at 10 minutes to 11 decades ago, but the gold Caravelle watch keeps my dad alive. A watch isn’t about keeping time. It’s about stopping it. – Regina Brett • The ultimate in futility is owning important jewelry. Insurers often insist on the wearing of paste replicas because necks with real rocks around ’em risk wringing. – Malcolm Forbes • The writing process for a short story feels more like field geology, where you keep turning the thing over and over, noting its qualities in detail, hammering at it, putting it near flame, pouring different acids on it, and then finally you figure out what it is, or you just give up and mount it on a ring and have an awkward chunky piece of jewelry that seems weirdly dominating but that you for some reason like. I could be wrong about field geology here. – Rivka Galchen • There were no jewelry hidden. Walt wanted this atmosphere: They were supposed to live here, they’ve been outside somewhere, but they could come back at any minute and catch us. – John Hench • There’s nothing essentially romantic about things like roses or jewelry. Romance starts as some blank concept, and then you just fill it in with objects so you have something to point to when you want to make it real. – Andrea Seigel • To me, jewelry is a natural progression and there is something so meaningful and magical about creating that one of a kind, special piece. – Pamela Love • We must buy jewelry; it identifies us with our tribe, just as body piercing identifies those of a different tribe. – Paulo Coelho • We passed hieroglyphic scrolls, gold jewelry, sarcophagi, statues of pharaohs, and huge chunks of limestone. Why would someone display a rock? Aren’t there enough of those in the world? – Rick Riordan • We used to have MTV and all these ways we can show our videos, and it was these rap shows, and it was everything. And then it became not cool to be conscious; it became cool to just hang out. Escapism rap became the norm. And, when I say “escapism rap”, I mean getting high, get your cars, get your money, get your jewelry, go to the club, have your women, and it just became all about escaping your reality and not making your reality better on a real tip; not just on the have fun tip. – Ice Cube • We were broke in a way that only kids can be broke. Our toes were black with dye from wearing boots that weren’t waterproof. We had infected ear lobes and green rings around our fingers from cheap jewelry. No one ever even had a chocolate bar. – Heather O’Neill • Wear a fabulous smile, great jewelry and know that you are totally and utterly in control. – Donatella Versace • Wearing a breathable fabric is the most important thing for me. I also love to keep it simple and keep the number of garments Im wearing ideally at one (a sundress for example), and then add some great jewelry. – Hilary Rhoda • Well, I always tried to look nice and be feminine even in the worst tragedies and crisis, there’s no reason to add to everyone’s misery by looking miserable yourself. That’s my philosophy. This is why I always wore makeup and jewelry into the jungle-nothing too extravagant, but maybe just a nice gold bracelet and some earrings, a little lipstick, good perfume. Just enough to show that I still had my self-respect. – Elizabeth Gilbert • Well, I never studied design and I went to art school to study art, you know, sculpture and things like that, and ended up making things like sculpture and started making chairs and jewelry together and that’s how I started. – Marc Newson • Well… I had braces and I had to wear headgear! I loved my braces, actually. For me, they were like a piece of jewelry! Instead of the silver or pewter I had gold braces. It was so much fun, I loved them. I got to change the colors and stuff and I had the rubber bands. – Jordin Sparks • What can I say about my jewelry? It speaks for itself. To me, style is to be simple. – Elsa Peretti • What I love about jewelry is you can change it for something else without surgery. – Joan Rivers • When I wear jewelry it needs to really mean something. – Julia Restoin Roitfeld • When I went to stay with I’m, he asked me for something of my fathers to make the tracking easier. I gave him the Morgenstern ring. He said he‘d let me know if he senses Valentine anywhere in the city, but so far he hasn’t.” “Maybe he just wanted your ring,” Clary said. “He sure wears lot of jewelry. – Cassandra Clare • When I’m in the house of God, I don’t wear my jewelry, if you’re looking for my jewelry. All you see is my heart of gold. – Mr. T • Whether I’m making a recipe or a piece of jewelry or a white-rose-and-jasmine tea or the perfume, I like to think of myself as a happy little sorceress, and if I could just have a little general store with all that stuff and give people a sense of my taste, that would be lovely. – Padma Lakshmi • Will the people in the cheaper seats clap your hands? And the rest of you, if you’ll just rattle your jewelry. – John Lennon • With melted opals for my milk, Pearl-leaf for my cracker. – Gwendolyn Brooks • Within each piece, I create an intriguing balance between jewelry and the body, and an intensity which draws others to it. – Sarah Richardson • Wives are good on paper, at least. until they turn into harpies with sharp claws and open check books. Then they’re kind of frightening. And they put on all kinds of makeup and parade around the street with their shopping cart yelling “Sale on aisle seven!” at anyone who will listen. Their wooden clog sandals make a helluva racket on linoleum tile. Their plastic jewelry clatters like the bones of little children. – Rob Campbell • Women like jewelry. They’re like racoons: show them some shiny stuff and they’ll follow you home. – Alonzo Bodden • Working-girls, in pairs and groups and swarms, loitered by these windows, choosing their future boudoirs from some resplendent display which included even a man’s silk pajamas laid domestically across the bed. They stood in front of the jewelry stores and picked out their engagement rings, and their wedding rings and their platinum wrist watches, and then drifted on to inspect the feather fans and opera cloaks; meanwhile digesting the sandwiches and Sundaes they had eaten for lunch. – F. Scott Fitzgerald • Yeah, my role is gonna be a character by the name of Yondu. And there’s gonna be more of Yondu. Yondu is gonna be even more handsome. Perhaps maybe Yondu will add some more bling to his teeth and wear some more jewelry. I don’t know. It’s gonna be a lot of fun. I’ve got my fingers crossed that we’ll flush out the character even more. – Michael Rooker • Yes, your jewelry choices make a difference. When you invest in ethical, heirloom-quality jewelry, you’re also investing in the future. Your purchase supports a creative community of like-minded humanitarians, out there doing important work. – Zoe Helene • You don’t want your jewelry to make you look fat. A lot of what’s out there now does – you just wind up looking like a Christmas tree. – Padma Lakshmi • You just don’t notice the time of your own metamorphosis. Until you do. Every once in a while time dissolves and you remember what you liked as a kid. You jump on your hotel bed, order dessert first, decide to put every piece of jewelry you own on your body and leave the house. Why? Because you can. Because you’re the boss. Because… Ooooh. Shiny. – Sloane Crosley • You know, my uncle wore a lot of jewelry, a lot of gold chains. – 2 Chainz • You know,” I said, holding my ground. “I gotta tell you. The goatee thing? Yeah, way over. And you know a little jewelry really does go a long way. Just something you might want to consider. I’m actually glad you stopped by, because I have a couple things I’ve been meaning to say to you. Number one, about your wife? Yeah, she’s a skank. And number two, you know that whole thing where you killed Jesse and then buried his remains out back there? Yeah, way un-cool. – Meg Cabot • You never have to buy an issue of Cosmo again to be the ‘Best Lover He’s Ever Had.’ Just remember this phrase: ‘Oh my goodness, I don’t know if that will fit.’ Then start mentally picking out jewelry.- Lisa Ann Walter • You should not say anything that you cannot put your totality behind. The total value of you is that whatever you say, you stick with it. When you don’t stick with what you say, you have no value, and your decoration and your jewelry and your sex and your person have no value. Real communication is the faculty of a human that whatever you say, you stick with it. – Harbhajan Singh Yogi

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equitiesstocks · 4 years

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Jewelry Quotes

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foodieworldmelbourne · 6 years

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This man prefers you don't know his name. But he let our photojournalist into his world

Updated September 16, 2018 09:28:47 Map: Melbourne 3000

Photo: The old orchardist, who prefers to remain in obscurity, polishes one of the little apples he's spent more than 30 years quietly developing. (ABC News: Jane Cowan) In a world gripped by 'go big or get out', he had a bold idea. Go small. In patched jacket and faded beanie, the man treads across the paddock. His face, inscrutable. His diminutive frame tinier still against the towering messmates, the peppermints. A black and tan kelpie trots ahead like a sentry, ears erect, tail high. The morning ritual. An old orchardist's early-rising habits die hard. Between his fingertips, you know without looking there'll be the stub of a cigarette, hand rolled. The old butts accumulate in the pocket of his overalls. He is not quite a recluse you can sometimes chance upon him at the local shopping centre. Or you might spy him walking the dog on a deserted oval. But he is beyond private.

Photo: Home is 17 slender acres in Victoria's Yarra Valley. (ABC News: Jane Cowan) Never has there been a more reluctant hero of his own story. Such is his aversion to the spotlight, his desire to avoid any kind of publicity, that between agreeing to tolerate my presence and this story nearing publication, he will insist his identity be withheld. You will never know his name. You will hardly get a good look at his face. This is a man hiding in plain sight, even from the photographer. That I am here at all is a miracle of spousal influence, though his wife also doesn't want to be known. Whenever I visit she performs a vanishing act of her own, staying inside or tripping off to the swimming pool in town. God's country 'Here' is 17 slender acres tucked into the folds of Victoria's Yarra Valley. On this undulating strip of land, man and wife neither from farming backgrounds made a life as orchardists. It was here they unearthed what became, for him at least, an obsession: reinventing the apple, in miniature. The little apples, as he calls them, the term of endearment embedded. "If you take on a project like this, you have to become besotted," he tells me. "If you half-heartedly go into it, it'll never succeed. So while you can, and while you're younger, you chase." To observe him here is to be struck by the sense of a tiny god in his own beappled Garden of Eden, tending to creation. It's exactly the kind of grandiose impression he doesn't want conveyed. He rejects anything that starts to sound like a romanticised account of his life's work. But it's undeniable. One big producer aware of the little apple describes it as a 'magnificent' achievement. Creating a new variety of fruit is a kind of holy grail for growers who are always looking for a unique product.

Photo: "If you half-heartedly go into it, it'll never succeed. So while you can, and while you're younger, you chase." (ABC News: Jane Cowan) 'A certain charm' In the corrugated iron shed, the old orchardist leans on the counter, polishing a tiny apple with a swatch of toilet paper. Packing instructions lean against the wall. A motorised pushbike is propped where the window light meets the shadow. It's aimed sometimes at the apple trees, full pelt, to scare off the parrots. A conventional apple weighs 160, 170 grams, he's telling me. There's already a smaller variety on the market. But the old grower isn't perturbed. His is tinier still. At 44, 45 grams, it's a quarter the size of an ordinary apple. He imagines it plated, whole, at a fine dining restaurant. On a cheese platter, perhaps. His wife sees it as a snack apple in school lunch boxes. The orchardist doesn't like the term 'miniature' or 'mini'. Forget 'tiny'. Same goes for 'dwarf'. 'Baby' is unacceptable. ("Nobody eats babies.") 'Fairy' he particularly hates. "No, see, they've all got connotations," he says. For him, the word has always been 'little'. "It's got a certain charm to it, right? One of the little people. "But there's nothing wrong with being little," he adds, a twinkle in his eye. "I'm five foot two in my boots."

Photo: The orchardist's overalled legs and boots protrude from an apple tree during picking. As commercial fruit growers have scaled up, his small operation has become an anachronism. (ABC News: Jane Cowan) Believing In the old man's book, people fall into two categories. You're either a believer or a non-believer. His wife is a believer, obviously. A partner, almost as steeped in the little apples as he is. Though the constant talk of little apples has become wearing, like a third presence in their marriage over the decades. "She's been putting up with this since the 80s. Quite frankly I think she's sick of hearing 'apples'. "If I mention the word 'apple' she's just as likely to throw a box at you. And I don't blame her." A nearby commercial grower has told the orchardist he's wasting his time. Non-believer. Fact is, the little apples have already been in some high places. Big hotels and upmarket restaurants in Sydney and Melbourne. A fruit shop in Toorak. Stephanie Alexander took the little apples to the Melbourne Cup one year. They graced wineries, function venues. They were bottled and sold into David Jones. Exported to Asia. The orchardist remembers one business meeting in the dining room of a swanky city high-rise, pianist tinkling in the corner. Coffee and biscuits delivered to the table. The head chef in his white gum boots. The little apple was earning respect.

Photo: The orchardist handles his produce the old-fashioned way. By hand, in wooden boxes. The little apples are a quarter the size of an ordinary apple. (ABC News: Jane Cowan) Reinventing the apple It all began with a hail storm. Necessity. Invention. At the time the orchardist was in berries and cherries. Overnight, everything was shredded. If he was to salvage an income for the following year, he needed to plant something else, pronto. "What can we plant?" he asked a friend who'd grown up on an orchard. "Zucchinis or tomatoes," came the answer, these fast-cropping annuals long the saviour of farmers in a pinch. The orchardist's agent happened to have a spare 1,000 tomato plants. Cherry tomatoes. Into the ground they went. The following year they were harvested and taken to market. "They were brand new on the scene at the time and I could not grow enough of the things, could not pick enough to satisfy the market." The orchardist's customers included Trans Australia Airlines, for in-flight meals on international routes. The next year cherry tomatoes were everywhere. But the experience had set an idea germinating in the orchardist's head. "We tried to work out what we could grow that's different to ordinary, everyday. "I don't like competition. I never enjoyed going to market, I could not deal satisfactorily with buyers on price, I hated haggling. I would set a price and if I didn't get it, half the time I'd bring the fruit home. "I like to be a bit different. I was trying to get something in which there was no competition. "And so we conceived the idea of the little apple to the big apple, applying the same principle as had worked with tomatoes." Why not little oranges or little pears? "Little pears had already been done, strangely enough. They were very delicate and came in little weeny packets with little pull-on socks, individually wrapped." The snap of the lighter punctuates our conversation. "But there was no little apple I'd ever seen. Everybody ate apples, you know, they were a universal, widely accepted fruit. So that's what we really thought." From there on in, the trajectory goes something like this: "We had the idea. We searched nurseries for a little edible apple. None available. We read books on horticulture that thick," he pinches the air, indicating three inches "No mention of a little edible apple anywhere. "So we went and bought every crabapple tree variety you could find, and planted them. None were suitable to eat. So we had to start looking further afield." Which meant roadside verges, football grounds, people's backyards. "Anywhere there was an apple tree, we would grind to a halt. Ha. "It had to have apples in it, to see what size they were. And sometimes you'd come a gutser because they'd turn out to be conventional apples with no water and no fertiliser and no thinning so they'd just grown pretty small." But his best friend knew where there was one. The location of that original little apple tree, the orchardist will take to his grave. Suffice to say, he got his hands on a sample. He learned to bud and graft. He learned about root stocks and scions. And he learned how to wait. Apple trees take four years to bear fruit. "I can remember the trees. They were neglected because we just left 'em to grow because we were concentrating on earning a living off berries and cherries. Once we realised the fruit was at all saleable we'd have to pull them out of a big patch of grass and stuff."

Photo: The orchardist wrangles nets in preparation for covering the trees to protect against birds. Hail is another threat. (ABC News: Jane Cowan)

Photo: At 75, the physical labour involved in maintaining the trees has become harder to manage. (ABC News: Jane Cowan) From royalty cheques to fear of theft Though he doesn't eat fruit ("Never have, even as a child."), the orchardist knows the subtleties of the little apple by touch and sight. What it means when the leaves are curled. How a greasy skin indicates a little apple is ripe. To be sure by checking the colour of the seeds. Black, not brown. How to control the shape of a tree by choice of root stock. Even when big names began picking up the little apple, though, it wasn't earning the orchardist the handsome living you might imagine. Fruit growing never did. "We had one very good year. And it was on cherries. They were in short supply, and we had a crop. "The rest of the time, oh well, we got by. "Some years were so bad that my wife went to work in the general store, I went to work at other orchards." But the little apples were being well received, and six years after the orchardist first dreamt them up the fruit was in steady demand. A niche market had been created. The orchardist would leave home at two o'clock in the morning in a Morris Minor "loaded to the gills" and deliver his produce by hand in the city before driving back again and beginning work on the farm. Later, when it got too much, there was a partnership with a big grower, and regular royalty cheques from the little apples. But, after a decade, the big grower got out of apples altogether, re-entrusting the little ones to their creator. Inventor became guardian.

Photo: In his study the orchardist smokes and plots and worries. To this day he has trouble sleeping past 2am, the time he used to rise on market days. (ABC News: Jane Cowan)

Photo: True to his surveying background, the orchardist has long kept meticulous diaries recording the details of life on the farm. (ABC News: Jane Cowan) Inventing something brings with it a certain amount of anxiety. "Part of the danger is theft of budwood," explains the orchardist. "If you let strangers onto your property, especially growers who know, they're not beyond snapping a scion off a bush and waving the flies away and it goes down inside their shirt and when they get home, it's bloody well grafted and it's gone." This fear is the reason for the string across the driveway, the draped coat whenever apple boxes are left in view in the back of the ute. "Because once it's out, you've lost your exclusivity. "At the moment you've got the exclusivity of the one I found and hopefully the parent tree I got it from has now carked it or disappeared off the face of the earth, so it's nowhere else but here." Even the neighbours don't know about the little apples, the orchardist says.

Photo: With scrapes from apple tree branches on his hand, the orchardist puffs on an ever-present cigarette as he loads his ute after picking. (ABC News: Jane Cowan) Buyer wanted Growers never talk about selling fruit. They talk about getting rid of it. These days the old man's life is consumed with getting rid of the little apple. Having closely guarded it for close to 40 years, he's now grappling with how to find a buyer, an heir to carry on what he started. It's autumn and the little apples are blushing on the trees, carpeting the ground. The orchardist boots one off the path, curses the birds.

Photo: The property has several dams, one spring-fed, which have provided irrigation for the fruit trees over the years. (ABC News: Jane Cowan) His face is a contour map of wrinkles that seems to collapse upon itself when he's tired or worried, which he has been a lot lately. For he is a man contemplating his own demise. "It's a journey and the journey's coming to an end. I'm 75. I'm bloody lucky to get this far I'll tell you now." In a globalised world, he doesn't use computers. Eschews technology. He's approaching potential buyers one by one. He has a list. He knows growers. But growing is not the same proposition it once was. "Growing has changed to the point where you had to get big. You could no longer survive single handed, working an orchard. "The margin per kilo is so small you've got to have a lot of kilos in order to make a living out of it, to cover your costs. And the only way you can do that is to plant an awful amount. More than what one man can handle. "You've had to get to the point where you employ permanent labour or have large capital resources behind you. For cool rooms, forklift trucks. Everything was done by hand in the old days, into little wooden boxes you used to carry in and out of cool rooms. These days it's bulk handling, controlled atmosphere rooms they suck the oxygen out of. Enormous changes."

Photo: An apple fit for haute cuisine. In the packing shed the orchardist cuts open some of his crop to assess ripeness. (ABC News: Jane Cowan) He imagines the perfect buyer to be a fresher version of himself. "If I could meet somebody 40 years younger than I am, full of enthusiasm to take it up, I'd almost give 'em a kiss." He thought someone with a roadside stall in a tourist area might be interested. They could sell direct to the public while supplying high-end restaurants. But he approached one and couldn't get the time of day. "I think the old days when people were more inclined to have a go are less around than they used to be." Once upon a time governments were involved in breeding programs. Now, as far as the old orchardist can see, it's all private partnerships. "I know of nobody in the research area in government that I could go to, and show them. I've written to people, I've sent little apples to people. I've got replies from them saying, 'It's a terrific idea, contact so and so' which I've already done, with no result." A legacy, without anyone to bequeath it to. "I'm still looking for a buyer. Because I don't know anybody to give it to, that's worthy of giving it to. And the trouble is, if I give it away, people won't value it and it's just as likely to get chopped down and lost. "I had hoped to sell it and make some money. At my stage now, that's not so important. My more important thing is that all those labours are not lost." Journey's end Whatever happens, by year's end he'll be ploughing the trees in or cutting them down, pushing them into a heap and setting the whole lot ablaze. He's decided he can't maintain the orchard beyond this season. The yearly netting brings on bouts of wheezing and the need to lean against a fence post. He requires help to do the spraying and the friendly nearby farmer, who's been doing it along with his own, is getting out of apples. It's crystallised a deadline in the old orchardist's mind. If he sells the little apple, then too the trees on his property will be burnt, to guarantee the new owner exclusivity. One way or another it all ends in burning. His life's work, up in smoke. "Don't feel sad about it because I'm not, okay? "That won't hurt, nup. Won't worry me at all. Because that's a closure, that's the end. Yep and then there's other things. There's the kids, the dog. Yeah, plenty of other things. In some ways it'll be a relief." I can't tell if he really means it. He's told me his life shouldn't serve as an inspiration to anyone, to other innovators. The way he tells it, throwing in his career as a surveyor to venture into fruit growing in the first place was not his smartest hour. But he's also said he'd make the same choices again in the same circumstances. That it's been a way of life, far better spent outdoors than behind a desk, shuffling a stack of papers.

Photo: In the overalls he wears like a uniform, the orchardist inspects his beloved little apple trees. To innovate is easy, he reckons. To have enough capital behind you to turn a unique product into a commercial success is another thing entirely. (ABC News: Jane Cowan) Don't give up your day job cannot be the epitaph to this story. He invented an apple, dammit. Like God himself. When I ask what crosses the old man's mind when it's just him and the apple trees, what the land means to him, he emits a rasp of a laugh. "Ah, well, of course it's been everything for 40-odd years. You can't walk out the door without saying, 'Oh, I remember that.' "I guess you do get attached to land, although nothing's permanent. The land is, probably. You'd hate to leave it. "The little apple is not successful insofar as nobody's doing it and we've had trouble trying to sell it. That no longer troubles me at all. I'm quite happy now, just the fact that I've done it, that's enough. "I don't measure things in financial success as you might gather, by the age of the cars and the age of the tractors and everything else." Demise of the small family farm When the old orchardist drives up and down the dips and around the whorls in his road he sees the landscape that's there, but also the one that used to be. "When we started here in 1978 I think there were probably the best part of 20 small growers in the area." Apples, mostly. Cherries. Lemons. The bloke next door cultivated roses. The berry grower across the road would be 90-something now, if he was still alive. None of the children became involved in the farms, though, and the places were sold. Given over to paddocks with long grass and horses. Lifestyle properties. "You know we tend to sling off at them but you shouldn't really because they're what's holding the whole place together. They cost an awful lot of money nowadays, so much money that you simply could not afford to buy the land to farm, to plant an orchard, if you wanted to. Just too expensive to buy. And so there's a lot of people who just enjoy the bush and the scenery." A way of life, faded into history. "Luckily I'm not doing it for a living anymore because what I'd miss is the bloke over the road to go ask him, 'How do I fix this problem?' Or the bloke down there who knows more than I do. Those days are gone where you are meeting fellow growers. "Those people just gave you information, never held anything back. They'd give you plants, advice, everything. It was terrific, you know. No jealousy or 'here comes a competitor', nup. "I've got one left up on the corner who I can talk to, and we can commiserate together about the weather." As children, the orchardist's three sons would help with the picking, a play in the rowboat on the dam the reward for making it to the end of the row. Now they have other lives, in other places. "Not interested, full stop. None of them are growers in any shape or form. One of them might keep a little veggie garden but none of them are interested one iota. I'm glad because it's too hard." It's shades of his own father, a bricklayer who would not teach his son to lay bricks. "Dad used to come home of a night-time, sit in a chair and fall asleep, absolutely buggered. He was determined that I wasn't going to fall into the manual, hard physical labour like he did."

Photo: A hard-working life held in his shoulders, the orchardist pauses at the kitchen bench while boiling water for coffee, which he drinks black. (ABC News: Jane Cowan) Postscript It's winter before the orchardist gets in touch with the news. He's sold the little apple! Though keeping the details characteristically quiet. Finally, our story ends, he writes. With the sale of the business and the removal of the trees with the land back to pasture, we may now have the peace we seek. Crosswords for him. For his wife, watercolours. There will be life after apples. For on the seventh day, He rested. Topics:fruit,agricultural-crops,rural,fruits,lifestyle-and-leisure,gardening,science-and-technology,horticulture,edible-plants,fruit-crops,fruit-trees,agribusiness,community-and-society,inventions,melbourne-3000,vic First posted September 14, 2018 14:25:26 http://www.abc.net.au/news/2018-09-14/orchardist-invents-little-apples/9369960

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