"Any Cooking, when you put your heart into it, will not taste bad."
This line was my inspiration for this week's act. I thought about those words and realised, that is how I cook. I have no real clue about the theory. I have no idea what spice goes with this spice, what dish compliments another... I know nothing of it.
But regardless of that, I put feeling into it. I am basically throwing food at heat and hoping something good will come out of it. More than once I have found myself thinking;
"ooh, that looks tasty. I wonder if that'll work."
And I commence to throw that bit of food into the mix.
After thinking on the aforementioned line, I went into my kitchen and grabbed a bag of rice. I went to prepare it, grabbing twice the water for the amount of rice I had. I put the mix on to boil, and that's when I had a thought.
I went back to my cupboard and grabbed a teabag. Candy Cane Lane. It was holiday tea. When properly done, It tastes like a candy cane, hence the name "Candy Cane Lane". The rice had not yet reached a boil, so I threw the teabag in.
The water around the rice slowly turned that characteristically brown colour. I waited untill I thought the tea was well incorporated, and I took the teabag out, leaving the rice for the alotted time on the back of the rice package.
I came back and checked on the rice from time to time. By the time it was done, the tea had been completely soaked up by the rice, and it looked as if it was finished.
I got out a frying pan, and set it to medium heat. When it heated up I drizzled the pan with olive oil, and poured in the rice. It immediately started sizzling, filling the kitchen with the smell of candy cane lane.
On the spot I decided that this would be a pudding. I fried the rice a little, and got out some sugar, some flour, and some soy milk. I poured a liberal amount of the soy milk into the pan, and mixed it into the rice. I added sugar, and kept the flour on standby in case I needed some thickener. In a random burst of inspiration I poured in the starch from the rice, and added some flour. I waited for it to look like pudding, and when I was satisfied, I took it off the heat.
The end result was delicious.
Like I have said in the past, My creative works are based more on feeling than anything else. A random inspiration, a burst of creative energy, I have little clue where it comes from.
This time, my act was based on the line;
"Any cooking, when you put your heart into it, will not taste bad."
In the end, that was kind of right. I made this dish with some kind of heart, and it turned out rather excellently.
Perhaps you'll hear more about my cooking in future "Creative Acts" entries.
Keep an eye out.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
FA 100 - Creative Acts Part Five
I have talked a little bit before now abot the novel I have been working on. This novel being about an experimental procedure called "Fabricated Identity Transplant" that takes a person's memories, replacing them with extremely well fabricated ones. Thereby replacing their "Identity".
I had hit a wall not to long ago. I had a decent story, but it was completely stand-alone. I very much enjoy the kind of story that has a lot of side stories that all interlock and solve each other in the end. What would I do for something like that? I was stumped.
I talked to a friend of mine in the Theater Department. I told her about my main story, with a man who had been changed by F.I.T and was not exactly happy about this. I finished my talk, leaving her with a thought provoked look on her face. She said to me;
"Why not have a woman who was in love with him before the test?"
It felt so obvious, once someone had told me.
I began to work on the story. My first creation was pretty similar to what my friend had told me. It was a Woman named Catherine who had been in love with the protagonist before he was changed. Because my Protagonist used to be a violent criminal, I toyed with the idea that She would have had no idea about his crimes. Perhaps when he met this woman it sparked within him a desire to change, making it all the more immoral that these scientists had changed him. He had the desire to change, to become better! And they effectively destroyed him. This would also produce some drama from Catherine, having not known who this man really was.
I also toyed with the idea that Catherine would not be alive at the time the story was taking place. My Protagonist Ethan was changed, but his story was that the procedure was flawed, so he began to remember who he really was (A process I imagined to be physically very painful). What if he began to remember this Woman, who he loved and hid his true self from, and the events in a story before resulted in her death?
Also a thing to consider. Just that little comment by a friend of mine, and the ideas started to flow.
In the end, I decided on a combination of these ideas. Perhaps, during his shenanigans before F.I.T took his life, Ethan Jones met a woman named Catherine. She was kind, sweet, and innocent, and Ethan loved her. So much, he was afraid that she would leave if he revealed his true self.
They were taken in by people whom Ethan had hurt in his past. Over time, they realised the connection between the two of them. These people were so enraged with Ethan's crime that they tied Caterine up, telling Ethan that they were going to execute her. They would use her pain to make him suffer, as Ethan had done to them so long ago.
Ethan tried to escape their clutches, but he was unsucessful, and Catherine was killed right in front of him. Enraged, he fought with a new vigour, defeating his captors and killing them. He returned to his prior life, never forgetting the girl who almost made him good.
My thinking for the delivery of this storyline was to have the Post-F.I.T Ethan have periodic memory flashes. Very painful to experience, and also very confusing. He does not remember doing these things, but they seem more real than the life he does remember.
Of course, that's because they are more real, but all the same.
Through the course of the story, Ethan would continue to put together the story of the man he used to be. The details of Catherine's death would reveal themselves at the time of a great emotional climax for the Post - F.I.T Ethan.
Dark stuff, but immensely intruiging to me.
If I had to describe the process behind creating this, I would fill my sentences with a lot of "Errr..."s and "Ummm..."s, because it is fairly difficult to describe a feeling. as with my acting, I still don't know how it happens. Maybe I overanalyse these things, but I have little to no clue how I create. Usually I get a hint... or a little nudge in the right direction... and the rest just flows.
I have not really considered the audience, in regards to this story. Mostly I feel like writing for myself. I enjoy a damn good story, so I try to create damn good stories. Hopefully I suceed. Hopefully I suceeded.
It's still a work in progress. Perhaps you'll hear more about it in the future.
I had hit a wall not to long ago. I had a decent story, but it was completely stand-alone. I very much enjoy the kind of story that has a lot of side stories that all interlock and solve each other in the end. What would I do for something like that? I was stumped.
I talked to a friend of mine in the Theater Department. I told her about my main story, with a man who had been changed by F.I.T and was not exactly happy about this. I finished my talk, leaving her with a thought provoked look on her face. She said to me;
"Why not have a woman who was in love with him before the test?"
It felt so obvious, once someone had told me.
I began to work on the story. My first creation was pretty similar to what my friend had told me. It was a Woman named Catherine who had been in love with the protagonist before he was changed. Because my Protagonist used to be a violent criminal, I toyed with the idea that She would have had no idea about his crimes. Perhaps when he met this woman it sparked within him a desire to change, making it all the more immoral that these scientists had changed him. He had the desire to change, to become better! And they effectively destroyed him. This would also produce some drama from Catherine, having not known who this man really was.
I also toyed with the idea that Catherine would not be alive at the time the story was taking place. My Protagonist Ethan was changed, but his story was that the procedure was flawed, so he began to remember who he really was (A process I imagined to be physically very painful). What if he began to remember this Woman, who he loved and hid his true self from, and the events in a story before resulted in her death?
Also a thing to consider. Just that little comment by a friend of mine, and the ideas started to flow.
In the end, I decided on a combination of these ideas. Perhaps, during his shenanigans before F.I.T took his life, Ethan Jones met a woman named Catherine. She was kind, sweet, and innocent, and Ethan loved her. So much, he was afraid that she would leave if he revealed his true self.
They were taken in by people whom Ethan had hurt in his past. Over time, they realised the connection between the two of them. These people were so enraged with Ethan's crime that they tied Caterine up, telling Ethan that they were going to execute her. They would use her pain to make him suffer, as Ethan had done to them so long ago.
Ethan tried to escape their clutches, but he was unsucessful, and Catherine was killed right in front of him. Enraged, he fought with a new vigour, defeating his captors and killing them. He returned to his prior life, never forgetting the girl who almost made him good.
My thinking for the delivery of this storyline was to have the Post-F.I.T Ethan have periodic memory flashes. Very painful to experience, and also very confusing. He does not remember doing these things, but they seem more real than the life he does remember.
Of course, that's because they are more real, but all the same.
Through the course of the story, Ethan would continue to put together the story of the man he used to be. The details of Catherine's death would reveal themselves at the time of a great emotional climax for the Post - F.I.T Ethan.
Dark stuff, but immensely intruiging to me.
If I had to describe the process behind creating this, I would fill my sentences with a lot of "Errr..."s and "Ummm..."s, because it is fairly difficult to describe a feeling. as with my acting, I still don't know how it happens. Maybe I overanalyse these things, but I have little to no clue how I create. Usually I get a hint... or a little nudge in the right direction... and the rest just flows.
I have not really considered the audience, in regards to this story. Mostly I feel like writing for myself. I enjoy a damn good story, so I try to create damn good stories. Hopefully I suceed. Hopefully I suceeded.
It's still a work in progress. Perhaps you'll hear more about it in the future.
Monday, February 8, 2010
FA 100 - Creative Acts Part Four
For my Creative act this week, I started something that will last a long time.
One of my favorite pasttimes is cycling. Long distance stuff. Last summer I rode up and down the Haida Gwaii (Formerly the Queen Charlotte Islands) with my dad. This summer I'm planning on starting at my hometown (some 300 Km away from Haida Gwaii) and riding to a place called Rose Point (The northernmost tip of the islands).
Something I have wanted to do for a while now, is bike a place called the "Nullarbor Plains". Spanning the entire south side of the continent of Australia, I hear that it's gonna be a pretty brutal ride. When my Father visited the country some twenty five years ago, driving across these plains was tantamount to suicide unless you had several gerry cans of gas. The trouble being that if you ran out, you would be stuck in harsh Australian terrain with no sign of human contact for several hundred kilometers. You would likely die trying to make your way back.
Scary stuff.
Of course, it is different now. There are several stations along the way to make things easier for truck drivers and the like to get across the plains.
Getting back to the actual act, I am thinking that I would like to write about this ride. Things I did in preparation, whatever I did to get myself into the shape to make this work, and then (once it is done) the actual ride in question. What ran through my mind? What drove me to go on a ride that is quarter of the width of Canada, with a lot fewer stops, much less Human contact, and terrain that harsh?
I have been developing some themes in my mind. Themes of whimsy, themes of improvisation, themes of rising to terrible challenges. It would take my entire life to explain them properly here and now, but I want to get these things out to the world. This peice of writing would allow me to do that. I often say jokingly that if people lived according to their whims, the world would be a much better place.
It sounds silly when I explain it like that, but that is a major part of this thing I have developed. This thing that has become my life philosophy.
My audience for this creation spans the world, or those who would care to receive my advice. I would even say it would change the way those people live their lives. These views certainly modified mine.
Work has started.
Keep an eye out for the book.
One of my favorite pasttimes is cycling. Long distance stuff. Last summer I rode up and down the Haida Gwaii (Formerly the Queen Charlotte Islands) with my dad. This summer I'm planning on starting at my hometown (some 300 Km away from Haida Gwaii) and riding to a place called Rose Point (The northernmost tip of the islands).
Something I have wanted to do for a while now, is bike a place called the "Nullarbor Plains". Spanning the entire south side of the continent of Australia, I hear that it's gonna be a pretty brutal ride. When my Father visited the country some twenty five years ago, driving across these plains was tantamount to suicide unless you had several gerry cans of gas. The trouble being that if you ran out, you would be stuck in harsh Australian terrain with no sign of human contact for several hundred kilometers. You would likely die trying to make your way back.
Scary stuff.
Of course, it is different now. There are several stations along the way to make things easier for truck drivers and the like to get across the plains.
Getting back to the actual act, I am thinking that I would like to write about this ride. Things I did in preparation, whatever I did to get myself into the shape to make this work, and then (once it is done) the actual ride in question. What ran through my mind? What drove me to go on a ride that is quarter of the width of Canada, with a lot fewer stops, much less Human contact, and terrain that harsh?
I have been developing some themes in my mind. Themes of whimsy, themes of improvisation, themes of rising to terrible challenges. It would take my entire life to explain them properly here and now, but I want to get these things out to the world. This peice of writing would allow me to do that. I often say jokingly that if people lived according to their whims, the world would be a much better place.
It sounds silly when I explain it like that, but that is a major part of this thing I have developed. This thing that has become my life philosophy.
My audience for this creation spans the world, or those who would care to receive my advice. I would even say it would change the way those people live their lives. These views certainly modified mine.
Work has started.
Keep an eye out for the book.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Creative Acts - Part 3
This week was a tough one for me. I had my act, but I struggled as to wether or not it could be considered creative. The problem being that on the surface, my act did not appear to create anything.
I'll explain further. I have been thinking for a very long time that I would like to just up and go one of these days. Spend some time in the wild, then come back. No preparation, no planning. Just grab a fistful of whatever I could carry with me and forage my way forward.
I grabbed a tent, along with a little bit of food. Just enough to sustain myself overnight (I did not have a lot of time to do this). I jumped on my bike, and headed along what the map on my wall called the Trans Canada highway. Pick a direction and go, see?
I found a suitable place to lock up my bike, and continued on foot untill the brush on the side of the highway looked suitably wild. Once it did, I foraged my way in.
I admit I got a bit lost, but that ended once I ran into what I beleive was Thetis Lake. I stayed out overnight, looking at the sky, disapointed that it was mostly overcast. There was a lot of wind. But I was at peace (I'm not cut out for a city, really.).
I decided to use this as my creative act for one reason over all. In the many readings we have read, one thought stuck out in my mind, and that was that creativity is "Being aware of your inner and outer worlds". I took from that that creativity is not what you feel comfortable with. Staying comfortable limits creativity extremely, or at least that is the impression that I got.
Therefore I decided that using my trip into the forest as a creative act was acceptable. I had been thinking of that for weeks, but I had always been too damn uncomfortable with the thought. The potential problems were quite staggering.
But I faced that. And through that I beleive I created something, though I do not know the specifics. I faced something that made me uncomfortable. I tried something new. Perhaps this was a birth of a new capability in myself. The birth and/or exploration of wanderlust.
The social and politcal ramnifications of this were slim to none. My audience, none but myself. This was something I had been wanting to explore for a very long time. A very personal journey, no? I am blogging about it, but all the same. Personal.
I'll explain further. I have been thinking for a very long time that I would like to just up and go one of these days. Spend some time in the wild, then come back. No preparation, no planning. Just grab a fistful of whatever I could carry with me and forage my way forward.
I grabbed a tent, along with a little bit of food. Just enough to sustain myself overnight (I did not have a lot of time to do this). I jumped on my bike, and headed along what the map on my wall called the Trans Canada highway. Pick a direction and go, see?
I found a suitable place to lock up my bike, and continued on foot untill the brush on the side of the highway looked suitably wild. Once it did, I foraged my way in.
I admit I got a bit lost, but that ended once I ran into what I beleive was Thetis Lake. I stayed out overnight, looking at the sky, disapointed that it was mostly overcast. There was a lot of wind. But I was at peace (I'm not cut out for a city, really.).
I decided to use this as my creative act for one reason over all. In the many readings we have read, one thought stuck out in my mind, and that was that creativity is "Being aware of your inner and outer worlds". I took from that that creativity is not what you feel comfortable with. Staying comfortable limits creativity extremely, or at least that is the impression that I got.
Therefore I decided that using my trip into the forest as a creative act was acceptable. I had been thinking of that for weeks, but I had always been too damn uncomfortable with the thought. The potential problems were quite staggering.
But I faced that. And through that I beleive I created something, though I do not know the specifics. I faced something that made me uncomfortable. I tried something new. Perhaps this was a birth of a new capability in myself. The birth and/or exploration of wanderlust.
The social and politcal ramnifications of this were slim to none. My audience, none but myself. This was something I had been wanting to explore for a very long time. A very personal journey, no? I am blogging about it, but all the same. Personal.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
FA 100 - Creative Acts Part Two
This week, in my search for creative acts, I thjought I would stray into the field of music.
Back in High School, I had a passing interest in the guitar. I brought it back this Christmas with the intention of learning to play it, but I had never gotten around to it (such as the story tends to go). And shortly after I got back, I heard a familiar tune.
"I saw Three Ships" it was called. A Christmas Carol. The song brought back a nostalgic feeling in me, and I was taken by the desire to play it. Initially, I searched for tabulature on the internet, but my search turned up nothing.
That was when I remembered the old friend that gave me that interest in the guitar three years ago. He was a talented musician, and one of the things he could do was figure something out by ear. He could listen to it, determine a note on the guitar that sounded like it, and eventually figure out the song that way.
I decided that, for kicks, I would try to do that myself. It was painstaking, but I stuck with it. I relied on the singing training I received in my last year of high school as I was going into a bit of musical theater. I would sing the first note of "I saw Three ships", holding that note untill I found a note on the guitar that sounded similar enough. Then I would progress to the next note, and the next note, untill eventually I had something that sounded very much like "I saw Three Ships".
If I were to consider this seriously, I would probably say that I subconsciously had an audience in my roommate. He was the one from which I heard the song from as he was playing it on his flute. Perhaps I had a little bit of competition in my head?
Socially, politically, this did not mean much. It was a development of a neat skill, and I was impressed with myself. Like most of the times that I create, this was based more or less on a whim.
In this and similar scenarios, one of the dominant thoughts in my head was always "Why not?".
Back in High School, I had a passing interest in the guitar. I brought it back this Christmas with the intention of learning to play it, but I had never gotten around to it (such as the story tends to go). And shortly after I got back, I heard a familiar tune.
"I saw Three Ships" it was called. A Christmas Carol. The song brought back a nostalgic feeling in me, and I was taken by the desire to play it. Initially, I searched for tabulature on the internet, but my search turned up nothing.
That was when I remembered the old friend that gave me that interest in the guitar three years ago. He was a talented musician, and one of the things he could do was figure something out by ear. He could listen to it, determine a note on the guitar that sounded like it, and eventually figure out the song that way.
I decided that, for kicks, I would try to do that myself. It was painstaking, but I stuck with it. I relied on the singing training I received in my last year of high school as I was going into a bit of musical theater. I would sing the first note of "I saw Three ships", holding that note untill I found a note on the guitar that sounded similar enough. Then I would progress to the next note, and the next note, untill eventually I had something that sounded very much like "I saw Three Ships".
If I were to consider this seriously, I would probably say that I subconsciously had an audience in my roommate. He was the one from which I heard the song from as he was playing it on his flute. Perhaps I had a little bit of competition in my head?
Socially, politically, this did not mean much. It was a development of a neat skill, and I was impressed with myself. Like most of the times that I create, this was based more or less on a whim.
In this and similar scenarios, one of the dominant thoughts in my head was always "Why not?".
Sunday, January 17, 2010
FA 100 - "Creative Acts" Part One
In the readings for this course, many people seem to agree that creativity is a hard thing to pin down, but when it happens, it's a wonderful thing.
For a while now, I have been working on a story to put into the form of a novel, or a script for a film, or something else of the like. The working title for this story right now is "Identity", though that may be changed or not depending on wether or not I find a better one.
The device I have used to develop my story is something called F.I.T (Fabricated Identity Transplant). In the story, F.I.T was developed under the guidance of a group of scientists/criminologists that treated 'identity' as a physical organ. This procedure, this transplant, is a technology that erases a person's identity. (Identity being a person's memory.)
The theory being that, in a person who behaves in a criminal manner, their identity is diseased. What else do you do with a diseased organ? A blackened lung, or a nonfunctional kidney? You get a transplant. F.I.T was a technology developed to that end.
A great many of the ideas that I had in mind for this story were born from the many questions F.I.T gave rise to in my own mind. If one were to have no idea what kind of person he truly was, what kind of horrors could you have committed, completely unbeknowst to you today? What kind of wonderful, magical things could you have experienced, now completely blocked from your memory?
In my own mind, F.I.T is evil. This story was more or less born of the themes or ideas of sci fi and fiction that have excited me in the past. One of those ideas was that point that those few special stories have in them, when the characters discover something so evil, so terrible, that their goal becomes very very clear. Despite all of the conflicts, all of the troubles that have plagued this group of people, their minds become perfectly clear and the goal becomes very simple. This evil thing, whatever it may be, must cease to exist.
Moments like that have always been, in my eyes, a hallmark of a great story. Such drama as this is what I am trying to incorporate into my own story. There's a man who was (formerly) a dangerous criminal. A woman who loved him before he was changed. A victim forced into silence. F.I.T continues to be a great source of ideas for me.
I did not imagine this with any particular audience in mind. Stephen and Burke's thoughts on the impact of audience remind me of the reason I came to university, choosing my area of studies in Theater and Writing. I have a love of great stories. I want to create them, to be a part of them. That is more or less why I wanted to create a story such as this.
As for Social and Political ramnifications... who doesn't love a good story? Theater has existed as an artform for nearly two and a half thousand years. Perhaps I can inspire others to write, to continue the trend; but that's not exactly important, to me.
To reflect upon how I create... It definantly seems as if something has to inspire me. Perhaps some kind of film sequence, or some thought I had at the time. Whatever it is that inspires it, it spreads like a wildfire. As the cliche goes, "It just seems to flow". That one thought... that great film sequence... that video game... and my mind starts working.
In the readings for this course, many people seem to agree that creativity is a hard thing to pin down, to quantify. But when it happens, it's a wonderful thing.
For a while now, I have been working on a story to put into the form of a novel, or a script for a film, or something else of the like. The working title for this story right now is "Identity", though that may be changed or not depending on wether or not I find a better one.
The device I have used to develop my story is something called F.I.T (Fabricated Identity Transplant). In the story, F.I.T was developed under the guidance of a group of scientists/criminologists that treated 'identity' as a physical organ. This procedure, this transplant, is a technology that erases a person's identity. (Identity being a person's memory.)
The theory being that, in a person who behaves in a criminal manner, their identity is diseased. What else do you do with a diseased organ? A blackened lung, or a nonfunctional kidney? You get a transplant. F.I.T was a technology developed to that end.
A great many of the ideas that I had in mind for this story were born from the many questions F.I.T gave rise to in my own mind. If one were to have no idea what kind of person he truly was, what kind of horrors could you have committed, completely unbeknowst to you today? What kind of wonderful, magical things could you have experienced, now completely blocked from your memory?
In my own mind, F.I.T is evil. This story was more or less born of the themes or ideas of sci fi and fiction that have excited me in the past. One of those ideas was that point that those few special stories have in them, when the characters discover something so evil, so terrible, that their goal becomes very very clear. Despite all of the conflicts, all of the troubles that have plagued this group of people, their minds become perfectly clear and the goal becomes very simple. This evil thing, whatever it may be, must cease to exist.
Moments like that have always been, in my eyes, a hallmark of a great story. Such drama as this is what I am trying to incorporate into my own story. There's a man who was (formerly) a dangerous criminal. A woman who loved him before he was changed. A victim forced into silence. F.I.T continues to be a great source of ideas for me.
I did not imagine this with any particular audience in mind. Stephen and Burke's thoughts on the impact of audience remind me of the reason I came to university, choosing my area of studies in Theater and Writing. I have a love of great stories. I want to create them, to be a part of them. That is more or less why I wanted to create a story such as this.
As for Social and Political ramnifications... who doesn't love a good story? Theater has existed as an artform for nearly two and a half thousand years. Perhaps I can inspire others to write, to continue the trend; but that's not exactly important, to me.
To reflect upon how I create... It definantly seems as if something has to inspire me. Perhaps some kind of film sequence, or some thought I had at the time. Whatever it is that inspires it, it spreads like a wildfire. As the cliche goes, "It just seems to flow". That one thought... that great film sequence... that video game... and my mind starts working.
In the readings for this course, many people seem to agree that creativity is a hard thing to pin down, to quantify. But when it happens, it's a wonderful thing.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
"Transophobia on Facebook"
So... I stumbled upon a Facebook group a short time ago, a group that bore the above title. I thought, why not learn more? I'm bored...
So, apparently, there was a woman who decided she wanted to be a man. She got the appropriate surgery and became a he, documenting her path on her facebook profile. When her surgery was done, the newly made man took a picture of the newly male chest he was so proud of, and posted the photo on his facebook profile.
Facebook proceeded to ban his profile.
The group I found thought that this was 'transophobia'. And they were right, right? It was no longer a picture of breasts, which would definantly be considered innapropriate, but of a male chest. and facebook banned that profile for bearing such a picture.
Was it "Transophobia"? Did facebook have appropriate grounds to ban this newborn male?
Discuss. *prompts audience*
So, apparently, there was a woman who decided she wanted to be a man. She got the appropriate surgery and became a he, documenting her path on her facebook profile. When her surgery was done, the newly made man took a picture of the newly male chest he was so proud of, and posted the photo on his facebook profile.
Facebook proceeded to ban his profile.
The group I found thought that this was 'transophobia'. And they were right, right? It was no longer a picture of breasts, which would definantly be considered innapropriate, but of a male chest. and facebook banned that profile for bearing such a picture.
Was it "Transophobia"? Did facebook have appropriate grounds to ban this newborn male?
Discuss. *prompts audience*
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