Horses....

"I don't want to hear you tell yourself that these feelings are in the past, it doesn't mean they're off the shelf because pain is built to last. Everybody sails alone, but we can travel side by side." -KT Tunstall

Since I have started drawing again, I've had a small obsession with horses. Jess loved horses! I'm not sure why I feel the need to draw them, but everytime I sit down to sketch, that's the only thing my hand will let me shape. I have no inspiration to draw anything else lately. And considering that I have never even touched a horse, let alone ride one...I don't know... I've only seen a horse up close a handful of times, they are big, and it makes me nervous. So why do I have this fascination with them!?

Here are some of my recent sketches...

Love You All...

Lately I have been taking back so many aspects of my life. It feels good. It's like all of a sudden I just got the courage to stand up with a machete and fight for my life back. I'm not afraid to scream! I am not silenced anymore. I'm not staying down, I've been down long enough! Everything that I was so afraid to do, I am finding I have the strength to accomplish. I'm not really sure how trauma creeps in and takes over but it does! The way I have been living the past year, is not like me at all. I can't imagine what it must be like to have watched my life from the outside for the past year. It doesn't matter though. All that matters now, is that I am back. I am different. I have been changed, but I am back!
LOVE YOU ALL who have been there for me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Survivor Art

I don't know what the hell got into me today! Whatever is was...I feel a lot better! I'm so glad I let myself be artistic again!

Home In The States

So I arrived safely home yesterday evening. I am so relieved to be back. I have to say that going to Colombia was one of the most influential experiences of my life! I was completely out of my element, and I think that is exactly what I needed to face myself. Since I was raped last June I have been trying to hide from the person I really am. I got rid of my guitar, stopped painting and drawing, stopped writing, stopped many of the things that used to define part of who I am. I closed myself off emotionally to the world. I sort of retreated into the trauma of what happened. I hated myself, blamed myself, and was much to harsh on myself. Last June I transformed into someone completely different than I had been for most of my life. I let the rape take away my identity. I honestly can't say how long it has been since I have been slowly becoming ME again. The lines between these changes in life are sometimes blurred because they happen gradually, but sometimes you can pinpoint a significant moment when things shift and you begin to become whole again. My stay in Colombia, the whole thing, is one of those significant moments. I really took a long hard look at my life, myself, and everything around me. For the first time in my life I found things that I had been missing. I found my family, my country, and most importantly I found myself. I could literally feel myself becoming whole again. It felt like not so many parts of me were missing. It was almost like I had been splattered with a mulitutde of colored paints. Each color covered up me, the original canvas, all of the bad things that have happened to me were hiding me. While I was in Colombia it was like all those colors were being stripped away finally, and the real person I am could be seen. I have never felt this whole in my life. Finally I know where I belong.

I cannot show what has been done to me. I cannot show how I have been recreated.

Everything is different now. In a good way. My comprehension and appreciation for the curves life throws at you is more complete. I am getting ME back. I am getting my life back. I am beyond letting anyone have control over that again. No one will take away my identity. What I have found in the past week and a half is deeper than what can be touched by another person. My understanding and enlightenment go soul deep.

My Art...

This is a really hard thing for me to do, expose my art. I've done these three pieces in the past month or so. Art is such an outlet. I hope that making myself this vulnerable does not prove disastrous!

Finding Me

Last night was a really long night! Some intense things were happening around me, and it led me to have flashbacks. I had a flashback about when I was kidnapped, when the man was raping me on a table. I get scared when it's dark because at one point he turned off the lights and he was in the room but I couldn't see him. He also left me alone in the dark tied up for hours, I didn't know if I would live or die. I am fearless during the day, but as soon as it gets dark I become a totally different person. It's the most terrifying feeling to be alone when it's dark. That was the most horrible experience of my entire life! I got through that flashback with the help of a friend, and I needed to rest, not sleep but rest. I stayed in that half awake state for a few hours. I got up to brush my teeth and get ready to try and sleep, and I had another flashback. This time it was about my foster mother. She would force me to drink alcohol and then molest me. In this paticular flashback she was raping me with the neck of an empty alcohol bottle. I remember I was laying on her bed naked, the door was closed, and there was only one table lamp on. She was drunk, wearing a bathrobe. She would brush my hair and tell me I was pretty but after a while she would take off my clothes and rub lotion on me. She would become increasingly perverse. All the while encouraging/forcing me to drink alcohol. She would never beat me and molest me in the same night. It fucked my mind more than I can put into words. She would be tender and care for me and groom me, and then she would beat me or molest me. I couldn't figure out how to feel. I loved her when she was kind, and I hated her when she was abusive! The longer it went on, the less I loved her.

My night pretty much sucked! That's safe to say. Today was ultimately better though. Since I have come to Colombia I have been having a really hard time figuring out where I belong. What my place is. Where my true home is. It has always been a consistant feeling for me to not know where I belong. I have always tried to find my place. Not having my parents and not living in the country my blood comes from really threw me off. I didn't know until recently who my biological family was. My wife found my family for me, my grandparents in Colombia. I came here because my grandfather was dying, and now I have to go back to the US, where I live and step back into my life that I have built there. I have to leave my grandmother alone, and that has been a really really hard decision for me to come to. I want for her to come back to the US with me but she will not, and I cannot live here. I know that it will be best for both of us to live in the country we grew up in. I know that I am Colombian deep down, and that I am an American otherwise. I have lived in NY for all of my 24 years there is no erasing that. When I first came to Colombia I was overwhelmed with everything that I had missed out on knowing. I quickly came to feel that this place really is my home. I was torn though because I also conisder NY my home. These confilcting feelings angered me and I ended up feeling the same as before, not knowing where my home is. I just want a place I can call home. Now I know that I am fortunate, I have two places to call home. I can come here to Colombia and call it home, I can come here and have my family, I can come here and belong. Not only that I can be in NY and call it home, and have a family in all of the friends who love me, and I can belong. My grandmother sent my parents, her son and daughter in law, to America so that they would have a better life, a safer life. She knew that I had been in foster care because after my parents died she tried to find me but couldn't. That was about all she knew about my life. When she told me why she sent them to America for a better life I lied to her and told her that I had had a safe and happy life all along. Someone helped me see the error in that, and I had a long conversation with her about everything. I told her that it meant the world to me that she was so strong and that she sacrificed herself for my parents and I to have a better life. I told her about what happened to me in foster care and that I was raped, but I did not give her all the details. I also told her about all of the wonderful things that have happened throughout my life, and about all the wonderful people who love me in America. She gave me a come to Jesus speech about lying to her, but in the end she understood. She was sad that I had been hurt, but she was happy that she now knows me and that I know her. She told me some amazing things about herself. You were right when you said I came from strong women (you know who you are). We both had to push our pride and private nature aside, so that we could take the chance and be vulnerable and get to know each other. I have to let her in, as does she. We have to let ourselves be loved by eachother as well. Today I really figured out where I belong, where my home is, and who I really brutally honestly am.

It was really hard for me to find myself and to realize just how lost I became. No matter how hard it was, I am so glad I searched and found it! It was worth it all!

The Hat

This is my Abuela and our translator Rebecca. My Abuela thought it would be cute for Rebecca to wear the joker hat that my Abuelo used to wear on what we call Halloween. This was the day before my Abuelo died. I love this picture because my Abuela is smiling! She laughed that day too! That hat is my best friend now, it's best atribute is that it makes people laugh!

Coming Home

It's all over. There is nothing left to do but help my Abuela pick up the pieces. She is devastated. Last night she told me about how she met my Abuelo. They were 15 and 16 years old. My Abuelo tried for so long to get her attention. Finally one day he walked up and handed her a fist full of flowers, she says that she was embarassed but she took them because they smelled nice. I'm not sure how long he waited, but I know that he went and asked for permission to marry my Abuela. Her father said yes, they had a big family wedding and have been happy together since then. They were married for 61 years! That is a long time, I only wish that everyone could be so lucky to find the one person they love and be happy for the rest of their lives. My Abuela is now 76 years old, she still has life left to live. Her and I find ourselves in the same exact position...how fucking weird is that!!?? Both of us must learn to live our lives missing the one we loved! I never even thought about that until last night. That just goes to show you that God knows what he's doing. If I can help her, and she can help me, things won't be so hopeless. We are family and this is what families do for each other... Man do I have a lot to learn!

My Abuela says that there is no way she will come back to the states with me. I have asked her to let me stay here with her, and she refused. She says that she wants me to go back home and not let this hold me back from anything. I neglected to tell her that I feel more at home here than I do back in NY. She is proud and does not want me to carry any kind of burdon. But this to me, is no obligation, it is something I feel in my soul. It comes so easily to me, to want to help her. I haven't even thought about what sacrifices I would have to make, because I don't consider them sacrifices if I am gaining familia!

I plan to be home in a few days. No more than 3. If my Abuela had it her way, I would be in Bogota getting on a plane today. It is too soon for me to leave though. I will stay for a few days and then I will let her be alone with her grief. That is what I wanted, so I can only think that's what she may want. After all, people are so complex that we do most of our grieving alone. It seems to be easier that way. No one to explain your crazy acts to, no one to feel bad about making them sit through this, and no one to witness those embarassing moments of complete breakdown. In between every stage I wanted someone to be around, but I didn't want them there all the time. I am going to turn into my Abuela's phone stalker. Every few days I will check on her. I am scared to lose her too.....

Hope all is well with you people back home...you know who you are. I'm thinking about you, praying for you, and yes I am even laughing because you told me I should (Blair!)!! See you all soon.

4 am

Part of my journey has ended. This morning, at 4 my Abuelo passed on to his next life. It was peaceful and calm. There was no interference or hysteria. The hospital called me at 3 and told me that they didn't think it would be much longer. I got dressed and went to be by his side. I counted his pulse as it slowed and I counted right up until there was no beat to count. My Abuela sat silently and let tears roll down her face. She smiled and said thank you God, then she opened the windows so that my Abuelo's spirit could leave. In my life I have never been that stricken with such crippling emotions. I didn't know if I would be able to stay standing, I thought I would faint. The white curtains on the windows blew into the room with the breeze, and I was sure I could tell the exact moment when his spirit was no longer lingering in the room.

The after death services will be tomorrow. After that I have no idea what will happen. I want my Abuela to come to the states and live with me, but I'm not sure she will. I don't think I can stay here to live. This country is so different, and not in very many good ways. Whatever happens, it will be what is meant to be.




I took this picture so I remember 15 years from now, what I looked like...the moment my life changed.

Photos

I didn't realize that the nurse took this picture, but I like it.





The chairs my Abuela and I have been sitting in...

The Process

I went home last night to my Abuela's house and slept in a bed she calls mine. I couldn't convince her to come with me. She has hardly slept at all. I did get her to eat a little bit of soup, but I am concerned about her health. If she doesn't take care of herself, then she won't be able to take care of my Abuelo. When I came back to the hosptial room at 6 this morning she was still sitting there in her rocker holding his hand. My Abuelo does not look good today. He is no longer conscious. I am trying so hard not to see what I have been taught to look for. His vital signs and his skin tones, his breathing and his involuntary movements. At first I tried not to feel anything, it can be very devastating to become attached to every stranger you meet who is dying. Then I realized that he is my family, it is okay for me to feel and to grieve for him. This is what families do. He is a fighter, but his is a quiet and reserved strength. I'm not sure what he is waiting for, but death can not be rushed, it is a process like everything else in life. As a nurse I know that it will not be much longer. As a granddaughter I wish for more time. I wish I had been able to really know him for who he is and who he once was.

Once again the hospital is as quiet as in all reality, it should be. There is music playing outside on the street. A group of guitaristas. No words, just music. A woman came to speak to my Abuela and I about funeral arrangements. I had to speak with her because my Abuela would not. This is a new concept to me. The funeral that is planned out is different than what we do in the states. I told her I wanted it to be respectful and suitable to honor his life. Other than that I don't know what to say or do.

I sat next to my Abuela for a while this morning. She kept holding his hand, not speaking, hardly breathing. I wanted to comfort her in some way but no words seemed right. I held out my hand to reach for hers, and she took it. The three of us sat in complete silence holding each other's hands, and we were consoled. I cried for the first time as did my Abuela, but she is still a rock. She didn't get hysterical, she just let her tears fall. Everything is and has been very peacful. I pray that it stays that way. The guerrillas groups have no right to ruin these moments for us, for me and my family.

My Heart

Do you follow me? Down dark twisting tunnels? Around sharp illusive turns? Through thick mysterious forest? Up higher and higher through dark sparkling sky? Crashing diving into deep dangerous ocean? Tunneling into cold dead soil? Into the depths of the mind of someone real? More real than you've seen. Upside down, backwards, light speed then slow. Dear traveler if you've arrived, not turned back, gotten lost, or ran in fear...if truly brutally honestly you've arrived...sit a while and drink. Read from my life's library. Enter a world all my own. But please do be very careful. For this inner most room is the life force for the rest. It's rythm provides sustenance. Should you shatter this fragile floor or these delicate walls, there will be no place left for you. Your journey will have been wasted and instantly you will be returned to solitude. For this miles long, are ever changing, ever shifting. The path is never the same. You will not find your way back to this city called HEART. You get but one chance.

I wrote this for Jess. I can't remember when. I just wanted to show her that I was greatful for the effort she made in loving me and not breaking my heart. I wanted her to know that her love was welcome, and that she could stay. I also wanted her to know that I was vulnerable. Everytime I read it, it reminds me of her perfect love!

Love Yourself

You can never change your past, even the things you most hate to remember. Going on forever blaming yourself for things you have no control over, will only get you one place in life...self hate. Life is too short to hate people. No matter how vile or cruel you have to find it in yourself somewhere to forgive them. Forgive them for yourself, not for them. God created people to be powered by free will for a reason. Not everyone deserves the resting peace that comes after life on earth. The more you struggle, the more you will appreciate. The harder you work, the greater the rewards are in the end. I knew this woman, she died an early death because her body was ravaged by cancer. Her two children were the most important things in her life. She lived as a free spirit. Scared of herself she just kept running. In the last years of her life she realized her mistakes and forgave herself. Not only that, but she asked forgivness from the people she had hurt. She came to realize that she'd taken advantage of the life she had been given. The biggest thing I took away from learning about her life experiences is that life if way too fucking short. I am making a promise to myself that I will live my life to the fullest, the best I can! I don't want to miss any one single important moment! I won't spend my life living with regret. I want to help other people feel things the way I do, I want other people to see things that you usually look past. I love the way the grass tickles my fingertips, the way sand massages my toes, the way sun passes my skin and warms my blood, I love feeling breathless with awe, I love when it's so beautiful you almost cry, even more when you do cry. Letting people see all of those personal, vulnerable moments is such a rush. Actually letting someone experience it with you is even better! I want to do everything! Fly and swim and run and just be totally enveloped in those moments. I want to remember the smell of the summer wind, the smell of rain, the taste of the ocean, the feel of sand and grass. I don't understand why people think that everything is about money and material possesions. "The best things in life are free." No amount of money can buy you true happiness. Life just has to happen. The harder you try to push your life in the direction you think it should go, the more off track you get. Life cannot be forced. No matter if good things or bad things happen to you, they happen for a reason. You can't pick and choose these events. You have to learn to deal with it and overcome it and accept it. Let people help if that's what you need. I chose to keep things bottled up and that proved to be more destructive than anything. The less I can talk, the more I can write. The more miserable I am, the more creative I become. As the pain I hold grows, so does my need for a manipulative outlet. Art. Writing. Music. Talking to people is so important, no one can do it alone. And suicide is just so unthinkably stupid! I have days when I am unhappy and I hate myself. I'm working on that though. I have forgiven myself for the mistakes I've made, and I've started making an effort to treat myself well. It's all about love. Before you love anyone else, you have to love yourself first.

I Hate You

They say your past shapes you. If that's true, then I must be a bloody bruise. The biproduct of hatred's wrath, manifested into a man, and never ending homes of strangers, lacking nothing...but love. Is it really all that bad? I mean, I am standing here today. I can't show what has been done to me, how I've been recreated. He preys upon my nievety, at only my expense. Devestation, humiliation, because of this I can never show my face. Falling from the stars, floating aloft, crashing hard into the ground, waking up to no sound. I screamed for help, but no one came, no one heard me call their name. He didn't listen to my request, instead he carried on. He had me pinned to the floor, then my bravery was gone. Freeing my inner demons, taking my self-control, he silenced my screaming voice. Shock and disgust rushed through me inside! Pretend it didn't happen, it'll go away. A lie you tell yourself, to try and find a better place. I hate you, I truly fucking hate you. I hate your smile, smirks, and laughs. I hate your eyes, breath, and teeth. I hate your stare, punch, and violative junk. I hate everything about you. I really fucking hate you, but I know your day will come.

Loving You

Building bridges
Between your continent and my island
I am black and you are white
I am night and you are day
We are as different as we can be
But our love is stronger than I have ever seen
Out of something so innocent
Came something so forever lasting
As of this I'll never be the same
Loving you has brought me down a road so unturnable
Out love is stronger than I have ever seen

I wrote that for Jess, in her card for her last birthday.

Colombia

I'm sitting here in a run down, low budget hospital, watching my Abuela. She just sits, and holds his hand. She rarely speaks. She has not eaten a thing for 2 days. She's drinking a lot of coffee...to stay awake I think, because she sure hasn't slept. She only leaves his bedside to use the bathroom. I'm not sure what my place is here. I'm not even sure my Abuelo knows I'm here. He thinks I am my mother. I don't even remember my mother. How can I comfort him? This place is a whole other world. These people are alien to me. Except...they are my people. I am not a Colombian. I am an American. That is the only thing that has become apparent to me. It may be my blood, but it isn't my lifestyle, and that is important. You can't just say it, you have to live it. For lunch I had food I've never tasted, but it comforts me. It's called lechona, it's pork stuffed with rice, corn and peas. I'm not sure what makes it taste so good. But it tastes like I should have been eating it my whole life. Eventually I will get used to it here. I feel like I don't really belong, like I am an outsider, but somewhere in me I feel like I am home, so that makes me know that I must belong here. Even though I hardly know them, they treat me like family that has just been on a long vacation. I was welcomed into their home, into the hospital, and into the surrounding community. It's like I've lived here, they all know who I am, I just don't know them. It's like they were waiting for me to return. It's more beautiful than words can describe. The forest is drenched in rain, and the sun shines through. It's hot. It's quiet. This place is like sanctuary. A tiny little corner of the the world, hidden away in South America. Somewhere I can be...just be. It's understandable why my Abuela didn't want to leave. My Abuelo was born here, and he will die here. There is nothing more that can be done to help him. He just rests peacefully. When he is ready he will go. He will leave this world and move on to a place where he won't suffer anymore. Until that time, he is tended to by my Abuela, watching her I feel like I am witnessing the work of a saint. I feel honored. I've been told that I am bringing him comfort by being here. I think though......I am drawing more comfort from this than they are. I'm sure that sounds bad that I can draw comfort from watching my Abuelo die, but that's not it. It's comforting to see that my real family is loving and caring and strong. My foster families never came close to measuring up to these people. It's nice to see with my own eyes that my fairy tale really exists. I'm not sure what will happen when I come back home to New York. I will be different, I know that because I am already different. How could I have missed out on this part of my life!?

I'm sure I will write more tonight. I have nothing to do but sit here in this room, with these two people...my family. We don't talk much and my Abuela seems to like that I am keeping myself busy with writing. She started singing a little while ago and I actually fell asleep in this chair at the desk. When I woke up she was still sitting there in the rocker holding his hand and singing. It has helped that my Abuela is so strong, if she wasn't I believe we would both be an emotional wreck and that is not beneficial for my Abuelo. This blog has also helped. It has taken me all day to write this post, but it's accurate. It does these moments justice.

"Under The Tuscan Sun"

"Live spherically, and in many different directions. Unthinkably good things can happen, even late in the game. It's such a surprise!"

I am counting on this quote to be right! When I heard this it gave me hope! That is something that I definitely needed right now. I love this movie. I also saw another movie called "Catch and Release", holy shit did that ever hit home! I think it's a good movie for someone who has lost a love to watch. It made me cry but it made me laugh too. Laugh, who thought I would ever do that again!?

Message In A Dream

Funny how peope walk in and out of our lives so often. Do you ever know who's permanent and who's not? Is anyone? It was on my mind a lot today. I was thinking about all of the people I've met in my life. The majority of which, are not a part of my life now. At first I wasn't sure how I felt about the fact that most people have walked out. The more I thought about it, the more it bothered me. I started to think that there's something wrong with me...then I caught myself. Those negative thoughts sneak in so easily. The people who have, over the years stayed...are some of the best people I have ever known! I want that. I want to surround myself with good people. Real, genuine people! It doesn't matter if there are a million or just an handful. As long as they have something pure to offer. As long as I have something pure they need, I will give it! I love people. I have always been a people person. Meeting new people is a big part of my job. Everyday I go to work, I leaving knowing more names than when I came. In my mind there are givens...people who you just expect to stay, the ones you think will never leave. My givens are mostly gone.... Jess I thought would be with me until we were both old and wrinkled. My parents, they are supposed to raise you, be around your whole life, and mine died before I could even save a memory of them. Losing Jess and my parents was beyond my control. There is a reason for it though.

I had a dream last night, that I was still in highschool. My parents were there, Jess was there, all of my old friends, I had a huge family. The whole thing is kindof fuzzy, but I remember I was outside. I was running track for gym class and everyone in my circle, both friends and family, were all running with me. I was running with my eyes closed. When I opened them, everyone was gone. I tried to stop running to turn around and find them, but all I could do was turn my head. My body wouldn't stop running. They were gone and I was alone. I tried to yell for them and my voice was silent. The further around the track I got, the less I could remember the faces of all the people who were with me. When I finally got to the end of the dream, the person stopped running and it wasn't me anymore. It didn't look like me. I don't know who it was.

That dream is what triggered my thought pattern today. It's really strange...the message that I'm getting from it. I'm not really sure what to think.

Birthday

So today was my birthday. 24. For some reason today just wasn't a big deal to me. I had a really nice, relaxing, laid back, kinda day. I spent some time in a really beautiful park, writing and thinking. There were tons of kids there.... It's hard some days. I had an awesome dinner with some friends at a very authentic Mexican resturant. It was good! A taste of home almost. We went dancing too, but I didn't stay long. I wasn't in the mood to celebrate. I feel guilty celebrating when Jess isn't here. This is my first birthday without her in a really long time. I can't even imagine how I'm going to feel on her birthday, or the anniversary of her death. I will never be used to her being gone. At some point though, I will be able to live with it. Right now all I can do is force myself to keep on moving forward. If I don't it's letting her stupid fucking father win. Speaking of...my best birthday present....! Jess' sister sent me a package in the mail that I opened today. It was an album of pictures that she found when she was going through her father's things. It would have put him in jail for sure!!!! Where the fuck was this album when Jess and HIM were still alive!? When she was trying to get the police and the doctors to help her!? Where the fuck was it then!? GOD this makes me so mad! Happy birthday to me. Pictures of my wife being raped and beaten. WHAT THE FUCK!?!?!? How can the world be so unfair? I keep telling myself that there is a reason why Jess went through that hell and why I am going through this hell. Someday it will be something meaningful. Someday I will be a better person because of it. I know that I have to stay alive. For Jess. For me. And for the people who care about me. So here I am....fighting till I haven't got anything left in me to fight with.

Struggling

The past couple of days have been fucking crazy! I've been struggling, trying to deal with seeing people from NYC again. They want me to come back home, they don't really understand how hard that would be for me. Going back to the place where I was violently raped, to date it has been 1 year next month. I am just not ready to live there again. Someday maybe. But not today.

Recently the loss of my wife has been especially hard. I miss her everyday. I want her back everyday. She commited suicide in March. The hardest thing is that she's gone, but a close second is that there will be no justice. Everything that happened to her will just become another silent lost case. It makes me angry to watch inncoent kids come into the ER with STD's and injuries that can only come from sexual abuse. If one person had taken the time to listen to Jess when she was young, then maybe her father would have gone to jail sooner, maybe she would still be alive. If I can be the one person to listen to these kids and get them the help they need and deserve, maybe I can prevent them from making the mistake of taking their lives! That to me is the only way I can honor and justify Jess' death.

Anger is such a crippling emotion! Right now, for the past year, I have held a lot of anger! I feel it in me, I know that it's there. But for some reason I just cannot get myself to let it come out. I can't let myself feel the anger and get rid of it. I just keep it tucked away deep inside me, and that I know, is hurting me. I'm angry because of the rape, the loss of Jess, and just the fact that my whole life has been turned upside down and I have become a person competely unrecognizable to myself. I know that I have to change and evolve with the fast paces of a changing world, but I feel like a complete stranger. All I want is to know myself and to have some level of peace in my life. I want to be at peace and be okay with everything that has happened. I know that it's going to take me a long time to get there, but I think if I can get headed in the right direction that everything will be a little bit less uncomfortable.

More to come...