video | un: orientalism

[pluspetitpoete]

[There's a bit of adjusting at first; a very close look of a young, blond man's face, then his palm covering the lens before he finally sits back, happy with himself.

He waves, beaming brightly and clearly very excited to be recording this.]

Hello everyone! My name is Jean Prouvaire. I recently arrived here, and I wanted to introduce myself. I heard this is the best way to talk to the most people, so I thought I'd try it!

Let's see, I'm from Earth. From France, specifically. It's quite different here, but I think it's lovely! I have friends here, and I hope to meet some new people as well.

What else? I'm a poet! Not professionally, I was in school for languages and linguistics, but I love to write! Oh, I also very much enjoy horticulture and botany! The plants here are so interesting and I know I ought to be careful with most of them, but some are too lovely to resist.

I think that's about all for now! I look forward to speaking with you all!

Comments

canonblind but he's so cute

[insist]

[ This man seems very passionate about his poetry. That's something Rohan can respect. ] I see. Romance isn't a genre that interests me, but there's no harm in checking out these authors you've listed. Especially since, if the works are here, I might actually be able to read them.

[ Things kind of get auto-translated in this melting pot of a world. Back on Earth, he would have to find a Japanese translation.

He's not holding out hopes that the library actually has anything though. Also, he's never heard of Percy Shelley but this story is pretty engaging. ] Is that a real story ...?

he is deeply enthusiastic about many things!

[pluspetitpoete]

Oh yes! Well you see they're part of the Romantic Movement, which started in the late seventeen hundreds. But it was less about love and more about appreciating nature and the timelessness of beauty. Shelley and Keats both had wonderful love stories. Byron preferred to love more freely, but Keats -- oh Keats lived next door to the love of his life, and they wrote each other every day. But he was very ill and didn't wish to burden her with that. Shelley died at sea and was cremated, but his heart survived the fire! His wonderful wife Mary keeps it on her writing desk wrapped in silk, to this day. Or at least "to this day" from my point of view, I'm not certain when or where you might be from!

[insist]

The Storm destroyed my world in 1999. [ And he sounds way more accepting of that than most people might be. ]

I'm surprised that it was his heart of all things, that survived the fire. [ Hearts are usually pretty cookable, or so he assumes? That's definitely a thing he needs to check up on. ] But that's truly some devotion. It's too bad I can't meet that wife of his; that kind of longing is an emotion I would have liked to capture on paper.

[ Draw it, he means. He's interested in capturing real emotion in his artwork. ]