#arch��ologie

[666candies]

adam and eve apple. quote translates to “I am your half”

[alsadeekalsadouk]

The kausia was an ancient Macedonian flat hat, commonly worn during the Hellenistic period, possibly even before Alexander the Great’s time. It was part of the royal attire for Macedonian kings, often adorned with a diadem. The hat served both as a symbol of status and practical protection against the sun, used by soldiers and commoners alike. The kausia has been depicted on coins, statues, and frescoes across regions influenced by Macedonian culture. Its design may have inspired similar headgear in modern-day #Afghanistan and #Pakistan, known as the pakol

#kausia #ancientcivilization #egyptology #roma #ancientart #arch #prehistoric #culturalheritage #anthropology #italia #ancientrome #antiquity #ancientcity #neolithic #ologie #roman #romanempire #a #nature #bronzeage #greece #historia #megalithic #arthistory #temple #egyptian #photooftheday #medieval #archaeologicalexcavation #like #ruins

[thesorcerersapprentice]

Valeriano's Manor sits upon a floating island about 3300 meters above sea level in a páramo ecosystem. The manor itself incorporates various Gothic turrets and arches and is surrounded by 25 acres of private moorland. It is home to many owls, rabbits, white-tailed deer, coati, frailejones, mosses, shrubs, hummingbirds, and high-altitude foxes. For more on páramo ecosystems, click here.

TAG LIST: (ask to be + or - ) @the-finch-address @achilleanmafia @fearofahumanplanet @winterninja-fr  @avrablake @outpost51 @d3mon-ology @hippiewrites @threeking @lexiklecksi @ashirisu @thelaughingstag @foyle-writes-things @inkovert

*Disclaimer: none of the above images are mine.

[hickeygender]

f's in the chat for this motherfucker who's confused egyptol/ogy with egyptomania and the modern misinterpretation of eg/ypt in popular culture

[sciencesaucinema]

Très bonne vidéo, l'occasion de se plonger dans ma série d'article sur les films et séries de vampires et la science

[kadaryanto97]

Michel Foucault Arkeologi Pengetahuan dan Pengetahuan Arkeologi Penulis : Ketut Wiradnyana Penerbit : Yayasan Pustaka Obor Indonesia ISBN : 978-602-433-611-0 Dimensi : 14.5 x 21 cm Berat : 200 gram Jumlah Halaman : xiv + 106 hlm Tahun : Terbit 2018 Original Harga Rp75.000 diskon 20% Rp60.000 Sinopsis Arkeologi pengetahuan dan genealogi kekuasaan merupakan inti dari metodologi Foucault. Arkeologi pengetahuan meliputi upaya penelitian untuk menemukan  seperangkat aturan yang menentukan kondisi kemungkinan keseluruhan yang dapat dikatakan dalam wacana khusus pada waktu tertentu. Arkeologi pengetahuan juga merupakan pencarian sistem umum dari formasi dan transformasi pernyataan (ke dalam formasi diskursif). Pencarian sistem umum atau aturan-aturan umum dan fokus pada diskursus atau wacana– dokumen tertulis dan pembicaraan- mencerminkan pengaruh awal dari strukturalisme terhadap karya Foucault. Dalam menganalisis dokumen-dokumen ini, Foucault mengorganisasikan dokumen, membagi, mendistribusikan, dan mengaturnya dalam tingkatan-tingkatan, mengurutkan, membedakan antara relevan dengan yang tidak, menemukan elemen-elemen, mendefinisikan kesatuan, mendeskripsikan relasi. #arkeologi #arkeoloji #archeologia #archeologie #ark #arqueology #archaeologia #archaeology #arch #ologi #history #ologie #a #archaeologist #archeology #arkaeologi #michelfoucault #archaeologylovers #archaeologylife #arkeolojikkaz #y #maritimearchaeology #archaologie #oudheidkunde #artwatches #l #arqueologia #arqueolog #vahistory #indostar_bookstore https://www.instagram.com/p/B_vAUQZBVi2/?igshid=1i3u1pmi4ahga

[evilasiangenius]

“Guys, guys! Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about, you know my boss wouldn’t like it if he found out that you want me to stay here all night. I’ve got to...to go...you know, measure the stars and moon and planets and stuff, track what they’re doing in the sky. Can’t just sit around all night drinking, I’ve got...astro- astronogy. Astrolomy. -ology. Ology... Star stuff to do. Sky stuff.” Crowley set down the wine cup, staring at the dark, sediment-filled dregs of the lightly watered wine.

Crowley turned to the handsome noble he was sharing a couch with, an amusing young man with short-cropped curly dark auburn hair like the petals of a hyacinth, warm gray eyes, and a neat short-trimmed beard shot through with reddish hairs. “Sorry Nikanor, that’s it for me.”

“Are you done? Why not toss the lees?” Nikanor pointed to the cup.

“I’m done,” Crowley yawned. “Done, done, done. Done with kottabos too.”

“Then let me,” Straightening up, Nikanor reached over, taking the cup painted with hunting scenes from the little table where it sat. He swirled the lees about but instead of trying to knock down the target in the center of the room, Nikanor tossed them onto the ground with a snap of his wrist, forming a jagged alpha of crimson wine. “There. Alpha for Akakios.”

Crowley stared at the splashed wine, and a pang of longing passed through him. He closed his eyes briefly against the pain; if only it were Aziraphale by his side…

“Are you all right, Akakios?”

Crowley glanced over and the human’s eyes were full of concern.

“Sure, I’m fine. I’m always fine. Just a little tired and I still have lots of stuff to do for my master. Sorry, Nikanor,” Crowley sighed. “Thanks for inviting me, but I really can’t stay any longer.”

“We’ll let you go if you do one thing for us,” Nikanor said with a smirk.

“What’s that?” Crowley arched an eyebrow. He knew without asking that Nikanor wanted more than just an amusing dinner companion and the demon normally would have done his best to avoid this situation, especially with Asmodeus around. Only, he also had explicit orders from the Prince of Hell to cultivate the younger nobles of the court. So it seemed reasonable to be friendly; Nikanor was influential, from a rich and powerful family, and besides, he was fun to talk to and as long as Crowley kept his distance, it would never amount to much. This was about as close as they had physically been together, sharing a broad supper couch, and Crowley was already wondering if this hadn’t been a mistake.

“Because you know,” Crowley continued, “My boss is the overprotective type and wouldn’t like it if-”

“Come hunting with us!”

A raucous uproar went up, and all the young nobles began to chatter amongst themselves, boasting of past and future hunting feats.

“Oh, hunting. Right.” Crowley nodded, relieved, if not for himself but for the human. Best that the human stay at a distance; even if Crowley had permission to be here, that didn’t mean that Asmodeus wouldn’t maim or kill a human for trespassing on his possessions. “Right now? But it’s night…”

“Not now, of course,” Nikanor laughed, leaning up to pat Crowley’s shoulder, but only where the cloth of the chiton covered Crowley’s skin. Crowley smiled a little to himself. That this human knew that Crowley hated casual touch upon bare skin and did his best to respect his preferences was rather charming. “Night hunting can be fun – if you’re just looking to catch small prey – but take a night off sometime, get to bed early like a decent person, and let’s all go hunting together at dawn. We’ll make a day of it.”

“I don’t think-” Crowley began.

“Come on, Akakios, you’ve been here what, four years?”

“Five,” Crowley corrected. “I think. Whatever, it’s just time, and not really that much of it.”

“Years, Akakios. You’ve been at the court for years, and you still haven’t won the right to recline at supper. We need to fix that so you can recline like the rest of us. Look around you, an entire nine couch party and you’re the only one sitting. Come hunting with me, we can change that,” Nikanor smiled. “Wouldn’t it be better to recline like this at dinner and at drinking, with me? After all, it’s not like you have other friends at court.” Nikanor’s voice lowered, so that only Crowley could hear him. “You know I’d like it if we were better friends-”

x

[un-pearable]

arch of ology ily why do you do this to me

[teslacoils-and-hubris]

MAD SCIENCE ASK GAME!

Send one in to the person you reblog this from!

Beakers- if you could make a liquid that did anything what would it do?

Electricity- if every time you laughed lighting flashed behind you how would you use this to your advantage?

Dr jekyll- thoughts on self experimentation?

Frankenstein- what lengths would you go to to undo death and play god?

Lab coat- describe your ideal Mad Scienice Look!

Ray gun- describe your ideal arche nemesis!

-ology- what field do you mostly use, and how did you corrupt it?

Moral- did you start off with a Nobel goal or were you evil to beguine with? Some other combination? Perhaps you’re just a kooky scientist helping the good guys

Tesla coil- describe your evil lair/lab?

Humanity- are you fully human? Were you ever to start?

-inator- describe a machine you’d build and what it would do if money and skill weren’t objects

Randomizer!- the asker can send in a question of their own cause this is harder than I thought it would be lmao

[art-now-france]

Archéologie, Celine BRON

This work is an original abstract landscape made up with acrylic painting on kraft paper, unframed, 2018. About framing you can inserted the kraft paper beetween two plexiglas if you want to keep the minimalist effect of the kraft paper or pasted on canvas. This piece is completely created from salvaged recycled/reclaimed materials. Feel free to contact me if you need more informations

https://www.saatchiart.com/art/Painting-Arch-ologie/780957/4151152/view

[gemsofgreece]

Ancient Greek, the language of the future

by Eugenia Manolidou, conductor.

“I read with interest Mr Dimos’s article that was published in the “Opinions” column on October 17th 2020. Please allow me some comments regarding it.”

[GEMSOFGREECE NOTE: I have read both articles and many things stated by Mr Dimos had me disagreeing or straight out displeased. Eugenia Manolidou responded with an article of her own, apparently motivated by similar feelings. I think her article is an enjoyable read and I agree on many levels while on others I can’t have an opinion due to lack of sufficient knowledge. I thought some of you would be interested in it, so I am translating the article in English. The article is informative for both Greek speakers and people interested in the Greek language and culture as well as the pronunciation of Ancient Greek. In the link, you can find the sources she used at the end of the text. I must now add that I did not necessarily expect to enjoy an article written by Mrs Manolidou (she’s well known in Greece and married to a politician) but that’s a personal impression that perhaps shouldn’t influence you. Going on with the article under the cut.]

I’ll begin with its title, “Can a dead language live again?”, which clearly refers to our language, Ancient Greek. I call it “ours” because even though we don’t comprehend it very well when reading ancient texts, we however use it in our everyday speech, even without realizing it.

For example, we might not know that the word αὐδή (avdí) means voice but we say very often “έμεινα άναυδος” (émina ánavdos = I was left speechless / voiceless). We might not know the phrase «ξύλου ἅπτεσθαι» (= knock on wood) but we always search for wood to knock when trying to avoid a bad omen.

Of course, I should not even start with the vocabulary in sciences, arts and literature because the list is endless. The Greek language is a living language that has survived not because we say so but because it remains in the international vocabulary by enriching most European languages.

Every year, students of the Classical Studies abroad rush to acquire books, teaching methods for Ancient Greek from Oxford, Cambridge and the rest acclaimed publishing companies. I will refer to the publications POLIS Institute Press of the Jerusalem Institute of Languages and Humanities with the title «Λαλεῖν τῇ κοινῇ διαλέκτῷ τῇ ζῶσῃ» (=Speaking the common living dialect). Meaning, the Common Greek, the living.

It is known that almost all schools in Europe kindle interest and enthusiasm in kids to learn the Classical Languages - and not “dead” so as to condemn them in advance - Latin and Greek. And yes in most countries they are taught with the Erasmian pronunciation because it helps them understand the dictation. Just for that. Not because they think it’s the correct pronunciation. Not anymore.

The Erasmian being an accurate description of how the ancients talked is an outdated thesis which many of the intellectuals and professors in Europe have now understood and explained. I will try to add some arguments in favor of this statement in short.

For those who don’t know, Desiderius Erasmus Roterdamus (1466 – 1536) was a Dutch monk who invented a method that would help those who learned Ancient Greek to write it down correctly. So, where someone would say “Χαίρε” (hére) and write it as «χέρε» (because that’s how it sounds), Erasmus explained that they should think of it as “háire” in order to write it correctly. But he never urged people to pronounce it like that.

Besides, in his book Colloquia Familiaria in the chapter “Echo”, he explains how to pronounce the diphthongs -onis, ονοις / -kopi, κόποι / -lici, λύκοι / -logi λόγοι/ and so on. Erasmus never said this is how Ancient Greeks talked, he just urged his students to memorize the correct dictation by ear. No European language is spoken exactly as it’s written.

We all think of such tricks to write words correctly. For instance, we think “extra-ordinary” but no fluent speaker of English pronounces it like that. Unfortunately, during the Renaissance in Europe, when the arts and literature were greatly inspired by the Greek mythology, history and philosophy, Greece under the centuries-long Turkish occupation couldn’t be a match for the rest of Europe. So when the French, German and Italian aristocrats spoke Ancient Greek to each other, we spoke a mix of Greek, Turkish and Italian, a blended language that we would hardly comprehend nowadays. And thankfully, our language survived thanks to the Church and the Scripts, which are written in Ancient Greek.

Therefore we did not know the way Ancient Greek was spoken in Europe. Here in Greece, we didn’t know. There were Greeks who didn’t live in Greece during the Ottoman rule though who knew. One of them was the priest Konstantinos Economou of Economon (1780-1857) who in his work «Περὶ τῆς Γνησίας Προφορᾶς τῆς Ἑλληνικῆς Γλώσσης» (=Regarding the Authentic Pronunciation of the Greek Language), Saint Petersburg 1829, explains why there’s no way the Ancient Greeks separated the diphthongs.

First of all, they were called “diphthongs” which means “two sounds in one”. If they don’t mean that, then why call them this way? Just like Andrea Marcolongo says in her book «La lingua geniale» , which translates to “the genius language” and not “the wonderful language”, with the subtitle «9 ragioni per amare il Greco», meaning, “9 reasons to love Greek” (Ancient Greek clearly, that’s what they always mean by “Greek” in Europe), there is no language more rich, precise and well-studied than Greek. Otherwise we wouldn’t have diphthongs, let alone a need for a diacritic mark( mark used to indicate a vowel forms its own syllable). We say «αρχαιολογία»  and in English it’s archaeology, «παλαιοντολογία» and it’s «paleontology». But we say «αρχαϊκό» (note the diacritic) and in English it’s «archaic».

Let’s examine some more words: We say «ατμόσφαιρα» which in Latin is atmosfera. We say αίνιγμα, in latin it’s enigma. We say ενέργεια, in latin “energia” / αιθήρ, in Latin etere /  Aίγυπτος, Egitto / μυστήριο, mistero / φαινόμενο, phenomenon / εγκυκλοπαίδεια, enciclopedia. The list is long and if we get ourselves into the scientific vocabulary (ginecologo, ematologo, pediatro), we will never end with this. In short, Latin, a “sister” language to Greek, saved through itself the pronunciation of Ancient Greek.

One more argument: the Greek words can be stressed exclusively in three syllables: the ultimate, the penultimate or the antepenultimate. If we separate the diphthongs, the punctuation gets out of hand. So instead of “hérete”, we would say “háirete” which is obviously wrong. With the separation of the diphthongs, the Dactylic Hexameter (the rhythmic scheme of Ancient Greek epic poetry) would collapse. Perhaps you’ve heard the attempts of the Europeans to recite the Iliad or the Odyssey.

Homer’s poetic epic has a completely different sound due to the loss of the Hexameter. Besides, just like Erasmus said and Economou quotes in his book: «Conducendus aliquis, natione Graecus, licet alioquin parvum eruditus, propter nativum illum ac patrium sonum, ut castigate graeca sonari dicantur.» Meaning, “Call someone, Greek in nation, even with little or no education, for that native sound, so that you learn the exact and natural pronunciation of Greek.”

What’s truly pitiful in this situation is not how foreigners learn to speak Ancient Greek. The true shame is that such a beautiful, rich and living language, our language, is more appreciated, loved and respected abroad than in Greece. I admire the people who try so hard to learn a language for which they don’t even know the alphabet. And yet they try, they learn it, they speak it, they teach it and that’s why the big publishing companies still publish teaching methods for Ancient Greek.

In the foreign universities, most professors teaching Ancient Greek are foreign. Foreign professors tutoring foreign students. It’s them who come to Greece for vacation and crowd our monuments and museums, which are right on our feet and yet we consider a visit there as a nuisance. If we truly want to love our language, our history and culture, we should be taught Ancient Greek from a young age, as a living language, like they do abroad.

With simple, comprehensible texts, from the mythology, from Aesop, from simple sayings and delphic orders, our language is full of them. So instead of occupying ourselves with whether Homer’s sheep cried “vee” or “beh” and instead of trying to decode why the Greek rooster says kokoriko while the English rooster says Cock-a-doodle-doo - he does neither - let’s try to make our children understand the importance, the meaning and the symbolism of the Naval Battle of Salamís instead of a plain «ὦ παῖδες Ἑλλήνων, ἴτε» (= O children of the Greeks, arise), dry and withered.

[theundercovermarvelfan]

Whumptober 2020 - Day 28

Whumtober Challenge @whumptober2020

Day 28 Alternate Prompt #4 Stitches

“That’s definitely going to need stitches.”

Tony stared down blankly at the blood that covered the inside of his forearm. His whole arm was throbbing and his head was swimming dizzily. He was also trying to subtly swallow the urge to vomit. 

It was supposed to be an easy mission. But when had that ever worked out? Steve, Natasha, Tony and Clint had gone on a mission just to gather information. But it had all gone to shit, leading to a hard fought battle that none of them had been prepared for. They had won, but it had been a difficult win. They had each taken pretty hard beatings, all of them sporting various cuts and bruises. 

It seemed that Tony had gotten the worst of it, a hunting knife slicing open his arm while he had still been scrambling to call his armor. 

“Tony? Did you hear me?” Tony blinked up at Natasha. They were back in the Quinjet now and heading home, but it would still be several hours. Tony was sitting sideways on a cot with his legs hanging over the edge, Natasha sitting on a chair in front of him and had undone the pressure bandage so she could check the wound. “We need to stitch this up to help stop the bleeding. And maybe get you a transfusion, just to be on the safe side.”

“How?” Tony mumbled. “Bruce isn’t here.” 

“Clint?” Natasha suddenly called over her shoulder toward the cockpit where Clint was in the pilot’s seat. He glanced back at her at the sound of his name. “Do you feel up to doing some stitches?” 

“Barton?” Tony found himself scoffing instinctually. The guy was a master sniper, but he wasn’t exactly who you thought of when it came to medical procedures. 

“Sure,” Clint said, hitting a few buttons on the console before heavily pushing himself to hit feet. “Steve? Can you pilot?” 

“Yeah, no problem,” Steve said, heading to take Clint’s place in the pilot seat. 

“You’re kidding me, right?” Tony insisted, sitting up a bit as Clint headed toward them, a slight limp in his gait. 

“Clint’s got plenty of experience with stitches,” Natasha assured him. “And his hands are steadier than a surgeon’s.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m out of network for your insurance though,” Clint said with a cheeky smile as he pulled up a stool in front of Tony. “So be forewarned, I’m going to bill your HMO an arm and a leg.”

“I’ll be fine until we get home to Bruce,” Tony said as he eyed Clint warily. 

“Tony, you’re still actively losing blood,” Natasha said, a note of scolding in her voice. “We need to get that under control before we can give you a transfusion. And judging by how pale you are, you need one.”

Tony’s gaze drifted back and forth between Natasha -- who was now setting up the equipment for stitches on the cot next to where he sat -- and Clint. “And where exactly did you two get your medical degree?”

“SHIELD University,” Clint said matter-of-factly, even though Tony knew there was no such thing. “We both got degrees in Don’t Die In The Field-ology.”

Tony didn’t laugh though as he stared at the wicked looking tools Natasha had laid out. It was a very little known fact that he hated any kind of medical procedure. Tony was a bit of a control freak -- blame his upbringing -- and anything that was taken out of his control made his heart race and his breath catch in his throat. 

“But seriously,” Tony said, hating the way his voice sounded small and unsteady all of a sudden. His eyes were still pinned on the medical equipment. “You know what you’re doing?”

A gentle hand on his knee had Tony shifting his gaze back to Clint. Clint was looking at him with a soft sympathy in his eyes. “I promise you,” he said sincerely, “I know what I’m doing.” 

Tony took a deep breath and finally nodded his consent. 

Clint pulled on a pair of surgical gloves before he grabbed a wipe in order to clean the wound. Tony winced as the disinfecting alcohol stung. Then Clint sprayed the area with a localized numbing spray. It would help, even if it wouldn’t take away all the pain. 

“Okay, I think we’re going to do four stitches,” Clint said briskly as he started to get his needle loaded into a pair of forceps. “Maybe five. We’ll see how it goes.” He looked up at Tony and met his eyes. Clint’s calm, blue gaze had a comforting affect, and Tony felt himself relax slightly. “Are you ready?”

Tony nodded stoically. “Let’s get this over with.”

“I like the enthusiasm,” Clint teased lightly. “You’re not gonna look down, okay, you’re gonna look at me or Natasha.” Tony nodded, focusing on the top of Clint’s head as he leaned over Tony’s arm. “Okay, here we go. Gonna feel some pressure and a poke.” Tony winced slightly as the needle pierced his skin. “And now another poke.” Tony winced and twitched a bit as this one stung a little more. “Now I’m gonna tie it. You’ll feel a tug. Okay, and another tie to make sure it stays in place. And another tug. Annnnnnd there we go! One down! Not so bad, right?”

Tony blinked in surprise. “That was fast.”

“I have some pretty good dexterity,” Clint said with a smile as she started to load the next piece of surgical thread into the needle. “Something about practicing archery for the last three decades I guess. Okay, ready for stitch number two?”

Clint continued to narrate his every move as he worked, and Tony found that it was like a balm to his frayed nerves. He ended up needing five stitches, but with how quickly that Clint worked it was finished in a matter of minutes.”

“And done!” Clint finally announced triumphantly. 

Tony blinked in surprise. He finally risked a look down at his arm, spotting the five neat little stitches perfectly in a row. 

“Wow,” Tony said, his eyebrow arching up in surprise. 

“Not bad, right?” Clint said with a smile. 

“No, it’s not,” Tony said. Then he tentatively returned the smile. “Maybe I’ll have you do my stitches from now on instead of Bruce.”

Clint chuckled. “Wait until you get my bill before you make that call. Alright, I’m going to make sure Steve’s not flying us into any icebergs.” He stood up and limped back up to the cockpit. 

“I’ll get you set up with a transfusion,” Natasha said. “Thankfully, Bruce is very organized and keeps the jet well stocked with specific inventory for each of us. Sit tight, I’ll be right back.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Tony said as he let out a sigh and leaned back against the wall behind him. 

It had been a long and terrible day. But any day that ended with the support of his friends was a win in Tony’s book. 

[blezbd]

Pompéi dans mon salon.

[reanimationstation]

Ray gun and -ology for the asks?

Ray gun- describe your ideal arche nemesis!

i want my arche nemesis to be another person of science, as we compete to have the better experiment. but i also want to be invited to brunch by them, except i might not go because social interaction, eek.

-ology- what field do you mostly use, and how did you corrupt it?

biology. oh you know >;]. but less trying to improve the human body through organic ways, and probably a bit more technologically focused.

[just-abnormal-human]

Ray gun and -ology

Ray gun- describe your ideal arche nemesis!

The kind where it's a sort of a Charles Xavier vs Magneto where the overarching moral goal is the same but I chose not to use legal channels to get there

-ology- what field do you mostly use, and how did you corrupt it?

Computer engineering- I built computers and then I built robots and then I build Murder Robots

[praxidixe]

How lucky is my mother

That when she forgets her families history

She can crawl to the computer

Open up whichever jean-ee-ology site pops up first

And find our entire bloodline

Find the queen's blood that still sits in our veins

The madman

The widow

The farmer

The car-pens-ters

The whole family tree sitting there waiting to be watered with the rest of our families blood

My mother will never truly understand the blessing it is

To find ones whole family simply because they want to

How lucky is my father to never have to use a website to find a family

His family tree is carried through stories

The roots extending deep in our bellies and branching out with each name echoed into a loved ones ear

Stories of how his father was so tall they built the Saint Loo-wee's Arch around him

That his mother was so tuff that the alligator ran from her

How his brother, Numbha 1, was soft

how cold and painted his body was when he died.

How da govern-meat took my dad, shoved him to the armey

And spit him back into poverty

How da hood chewed up our roots and spit them into a can

Chucking it into uhhhh-blivion

How lucky my mother is to Google search her family

To know no matter how far back she reaches she'll always find someone

How lucky my dad is that he'll never know the truth

Never know if our ancestors were carted here as car-go

Sold, raped and beet-en

Never know if our ancestors too were kings and queens of the African tribes

If warrior blood runs through our veins

Or if traitorous blood does

We'll never know more than the root stories we tell each other

And I think that is lucky enough