A COLLABORATIVE PROJECT
Project Menidi'ath is about creative collaboration. What that means is that we create together, in any and all mediums. It makes no difference if you are a water color painter, a haiku poet, a prop maker, a carpenter or any other type of creator or artisan - Project Menidi'ath welcomes you.
These pictures and texts are just some of the works that participants have contributed with to the project, but there is much more material all around the site.
If you want to know more about participation, go here, or click onwards to start reading about the world of Menidi'ath.
Festival of Lanterns
Written by Hanna Liljekvist
The travel had been uncomfortable, cold and a bit of an agony for the Javenian woman. The
Lenorians quickly got fed up with her love of comfort and their laughs slowly turned into bitter
resent at the woman's complaints. Rienle didn't mind the cold glares and whispered ill words
around the campfire, but couldn't help feeling the isolation creeping up on her as she got further
away from everything she had known. At the end of the journey the only thing that still showed any
kind of pleasant feelings towards Rienle was Ember and as they reached the village she had not
spoken a word for several days...
A Javenian diplomat clad in mostly Lenorian styled clothing welcomed her with open arms and
quickly led her inside to be warmed by the fire, offering her food, drink and a bath to wash away the
hardships of the travel. She gladly accepted his hospitality, already longing for some real company
after so many days.
(Written by Erik Sjöberg)
The ancestors must have granted me this weather." thought the prisoner. Nobody, animal or man could see me sneak about if I could only get out.
He was sitting inside a cage of sturdy wood, looking a bit like a rib-cage he thought to himself the first time he laid eyes on the damned thing. Now he wanted to forget how it looked, felt, smelt.
"Aha! Guard is doing his rounds, maybe I can..."
The guard was walking slowly across the path lined with cages, but because of the rain, it had moved a slight bit closer to his spot. The guard would turn right after this, he knew.
Slosh, slosh. Heavy booted feet stomped away in the mud. "I hope my arm is long enough."
TO READ MORE ABOUT COLLABORATING, GO HERE OR CONTINUE THE TOUR ON TO CULTURES
Copyright Zacharias Holmberg unless otherwise noted.