I am hoping that this blog will help you and me experience the craft of crochet as well as knitting. During times of silence or turmoil, crochet and knitting continuously help me quiet my mind at my own pace, enabling me to find my center. I am also sharing my SECRET persona, Lt. DAX, my life in code while living in Bajor. Maybe fiction maybe not is up to you to decide. Peldor Joi!!!
Sunday, April 09, 2006
Bajoran I am
This is the beginning of my life as a Bajoran Officer on Deep Space Nine. My name is Lt. Zeraven Ydan using the proper bajoran name pronunciation, I should be addressed as Zeraven, only my friends call me Ydan. The wormwhole and the station are part of my life now. I come from the Icor Islands in the middle of Bajor my homeworld. The Icorian Sea is a beautiful body of water which I miss everyday. There's not one hour in the 26 hours of a day that I don't miss the Island. Our days are ruled by 26 hours, which is hou long Bajor takes to rotate on its axis every day.
Bajoran cities are very pleasing to the eye as you can see from this picture. I spend a lot of time working at Terok Nor , the name the Cardassians gave to the station. The station was moved to the mouth of the wormhole after Starfleet took command of it.
Finally after many years after the Cardassian ocupation of Bajor , Bajor can breathe once more.
As you can see I am half Bajoran, my skin coloring was affected by a cardassian bone marrow implant.
My Promise to you is to keep you entertained with the fiction I create during the life of this blog. Bajor is for bajorans and my life will never be the same from this day on.
I will leave you with a carol from one of our festivals, the Festival of Perdol Joi, may you walk with the prophets.
Kevin Wald: Bajoran Gratitude Festival Carol
Ye merry folk of Bajor,
May the Prophets guide your way;
This Festival of Gratitude
Will only last a day,
So join us by the fire for some
Redemption-scroll flambe'.
O tidings of Peldor Joi, Peldor Joi,
O tidings of Peldor Joi.
The liturgy that starts things off
Is less than ten words long;
They're all in Old Bajoran, and
They always say them wrong,
Then burn a piece of paper in
A complicated bong.
O tidings of Peldor Joi, Peldor Joi
O tidings of Peldor Joi.
So go and find a friendly fire
To tell your troubles to
(With all the troubles in it
It's no wonder that it's blue),
Then drink until you can't tell
"Peldor Joi" from "Jolan Tru".
O tidings of Peldor Joi, Jolan Tru,
O tidings of Peldor Joi.
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