WEBVTT

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Ninth Story Studios giving Story a voice. Welcome to the list, Get ready

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to take the ride. Well,
hello there, this is Daniel Floyzak and

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this is Victoria's Lift Season five,
episode number one. Today's episode was written

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for us by the very talented m
Regan. They have written audio fiction for

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Shadows at the Door, The Wicked
Library, and our composer Nicos Project Connections.

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They also recently released a novel,
twenty one Grahams, which is absolutely

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wonderful. Do get yourself a copy. So before we begin, a sincere

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thank you to those of you supporting
the show on Patreon. You truly make

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the show possible. It's because of
your support that I can continue to pay

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the very talented authors, voice actors
and composer. Simply, it's your support

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that allows us to make sure those
who contribute to the show don't work for

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free. And a very special shout
out to one of our supporters in Peris,

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France, Joan cha jovous verre biontu. If you're not yet supporting the

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show, you can do that at
patreon dot com forward slash Victoria's Lift.

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For as little as two dollars a
month, you can help make the show

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you love possible and get fun rewards. A lot of hard work and money

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goes into making Victoria's Lift, and
I really do rely on this support to

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help me pay the authors, voice
actors, composer and artists. In addition

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to knowing you're a part of making
the show possible, you also get fun

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rewards like ad free episodes at higher
bit rates, access to bonus story and

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more. You can support us at
patreon dot com. Forward Slash Victoria's Left.

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Today's story is performed by Me,
Daniel Foytek Addison Peacock, GP McKenzie,

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and of course Ambercollins as our girl
Victoria. The episode also, of

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course features a custom score by nikovites
Off. We talk of dreams. This

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story is a poignant, beautiful and
dark tale and it's a perfect way to

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kick off the new season. Now
step on board and let's go for a

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ride as we present a tale about
coming to terms with deep loss. In

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art therapy, I M Regan Victoria's
Left, Season five, Episode one,

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Art Therapy by M Regan. There
is a basket on the front desk,

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a little wicker one. It stans
strands woven into an assemblage of hollow stars,

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Robin hadn't lingered over it when checking
in, Confused as they had been

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by a building that looked nothing like
Google Maps had said it would, and

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the fact that a child appeared to
be the only available member of its staff.

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But the girl seemed to know what
she was doing, and this place

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did tout itself as being family run, so Robin hadn't asked questions. They

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simply allowed themselves to be directed towards
one of the lobby's velveteen chairs. Now

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that they are settled in, though, Robin finds themselves wishing they had borrowed

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that basket. Sure they could ask
after it, or even get up and

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grab it themselves, but God only
knew the sort of looks and questions that

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doing so would earn them, which
would in turn defeat the whole purpose of

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collecting it. The reason they want
that arrangement of purple carnation, snapdragons and

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ferns is to avoid judgment, because, as it is working with the subject

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that they've chosen, judgment is inevitable. Robin is going to get judged,

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and they'll undoubtedly deserve it. Not
that the little girl has said or done

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anything to suggest she might disapprove of
Robin's rendition of her. If anything,

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she has been very supportive, or
at least very still, which, when

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it comes to modeling, is more
or less the same thing. But however

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polite her parents had raised her to
be, that demureness would no doubt change

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to derision when she saw the exceptionally
unflattering nature of Robin's work. So Robin,

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tired and twitching, clutches their sketch
book closer to their chest, hiding

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the unfinished portrait from view. Old
habits as the expression says, It's not

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what Rosette would have said, Robin. Half the reason you think you're terrible

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in art is because you draw everything
but t Rex songs. I promise I

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won't look all right, But please, I'm begging you to put the sketch

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pad on the table, give yourself
a chance. Here in awkward, erratic

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motions, Robin drags a number two
pencil up and down the paper they are

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presently sullying. Lying by line by
line, bits by bits by bits,

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the pencil gives more and more and
more of itself away. And for what

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This doodle doesn't mean anything now,
and it won't mean anything when it's finished.

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It's a waste of a drawing in
every sense of the word. Robin

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can't even hear the quiet sacrifice being
made by the graphite. Its loss is

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lost beneath the tinkle of the child's
music box. They shouldn't have let themselves

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get coerced in the coming year.
They should have lined this is all.

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It's such a waste. It's not
excuse me, I can't get yet.

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I'm afraid. But when we're finished
here, I hoped to okay, you

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know, I'm sorry. What did
you say? Your aim? Was?

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I? Victoria? Right? Victoria? Look, I appreciate the company,

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but you don't have to wait here
with me if if you're busy, or

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I mean, you can if you
want. I guess, but I'm just

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I don't know how long I'm going
to have to be here. And I'm

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sure you yeah, there's probably better
things you could be doing with your time.

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And aren't you a poet? Robin
isn't sure what startles them more,

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the abruptness of this non sequitor or
the fact that Victoria is correct, they

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are a poet. How does she
know that? Though it's not like Robin's

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reputation precedes them exactly has she been
told. It's possible Robin supposes Rosette's brother

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had been the one who had set
up and dragged Robin to this appointment.

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Maybe Robin's poetry had come up as
part of the new patient information that Bastion

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had supplied. I suppose that makes
sense. Still, Robin finds themselves unable

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to do anything but stare at the
child in surprise. You've been published a

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substantial number of times. Your work
is quite good. I was especially fond

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of your recent piece in the dead
Lands, the one about the ghost guiding

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the little girl. What was that
called again, um Owl's Head nineteen eighties.

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Yes, that one, But after
reading it, I rather thought you'd

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be better with words, more intentional, with meaning. That's what's important to

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you, isn't it words? Saying
them? I mean? Yeah, But

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writing is different. Okay, you
can you can take time to choose what

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you want to say. I am
fond of choices, and when you're writing,

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you can always go back and delete
something or edit it or add to

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it, and you can't do that
when speaking. I'm not as good at

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speaking. I don't really want to
talk about myself. That's unfortunate given where

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you are yes, But my session
hasn't started yet, so please, I'm

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trying to practice practice what drawing.
I'm not sure what kind of art I'll

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be asked to try during therapy,
so I figured i'd well practice. I

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just want to be good enough to
be told I can be done. I

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don't believe that's how therapy works.
I don't want to talk about that either,

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Victoria kitchy. Is there anything you
do want to talk about? There

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isn't really, But if Victoria is
going to insist on conversation, then Robin

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would rather be the one to steer
it. We could talk about you,

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or you could tell me about that
music box you've been playing with. Is

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it an heirloom? It's very pretty
and the music is nice, thank you.

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I am fond of it, cheeky
as it can be at times.

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Giggling to herself, Victoria flicks the
edge of the music box as if in

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gentle rebuke. For a moment,
the melody falters the box, trilling a

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discordant protest. Not that it's an
actual response to Victoria's teasing, of course,

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It's nothing so anthropomorphic as all that. It's simply that the mechanisms within

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it have been jarred obviously. Sure, well be careful with it anyway it

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looks old. I'd hate to see
it break. Oh you'd not be alone

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in that. Are you going to
include it? What my music box?

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Are you going to include it in
your drawing? Would you like me to

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hold it a certain way? I'm
happy to pose it, however the artiste

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sees fit. Oh no, it's
okay. I wasn't planning to. I'm

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not really in There's a reason I'm
practicing. I'm more of a poet,

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like you said, no real talent
at drawing, even if they had given

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themselves a chance, as Rosette would
have put it, Victorious music boxes far

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beyond Robin's underwhelming artistic abilities. Sure, the box itself is simple, but

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the looping arrangement of Celtic knots welded
onto its lid are intricate enough to hurt

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the eyes. Robin tries not to
linger on them, or to follow the

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girl's finger. She begins to idly
trace their ceaselessness. Beautiful, aren't they?

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This one here on the top.
It's called a darinaut. It's designed

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after the Celts cranbetha or tree of
Life, which was itself, likely inspired

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by the noises sacred Igdrasil. The
diaryonaut is a symbol for strength, wisdom,

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power and endurance, designed to represent
the hollowed oak and its roots.

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Do you like symbolism, Robin?
It's a powerful tool for artists of all

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ILKs, as I understand it and
use the hide lots of secrets, coded

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messages like puzzles. Do you enjoy
solving puzzles? I guess? There is

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a vase on the end table,
shared equally by Victoria's chase, lounge and

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Robin's armchair. It contains a plummy
bunch of white chrysantheums, which, as

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ornamental arrangements go, is far simpler
than the basket on the front desk.

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No point in trying to impress guests
who have made it this far into the

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building, Robin supposes. But whatever
the chrysanthemums might lack in creativity, they

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make up for and scent. They
smell exceptionally fresh, almost unpleasantly fresh.

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The cold, pungent earthiness of their
fragrance is enough to make Robin uncomfortably aware

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of the place from which all flowers
come, What makes the loam from?

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Whence they grow. I'm going to
rate you a list of what to plant

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after. It'll be a secret until
then, but you have to promise me

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that you'll do it. Will you
promise Robin? Robin hadn't promised. Robin

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doesn't remember what they had said,
but they remember that they hadn't promised.

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Robin stares at the chrysanthemums until their
vision blurs and the petals begin to look

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a pale, sallow yellow. You
you must do a lot of puzzles yourself.

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Why did you think that? It's
just you're pretty good at sitting still

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as well? Oh, I've had
practice seen and not heard. As the

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saying goes, that's a fair summary
of modeling too, I get it,

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of course, I get why.
Like in figure classes, you can't be

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moving around and throwing off the students
or distracting them. Have you done any

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modeling before besides right now? I
mean me? Oh no, I have

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been scouted in the past, and
my friend Anna once took a lovely photograph

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of me. I believe it was
put on display in a gallery for a

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time. But I'm hardly what anyone
would call a model. How about you?

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Are we allowed to talk about you
yet? You've got quite a bit

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of experience yourself. I always think
of birdies as creatures who enjoy mister flattering

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around like You're rather content to stay
pitched launch you, Robin. The downward

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stroke of Robin's pencil is abruptly ended
by the spasm of their hand. I've

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had more practice modeling than drawing,
I guess, pursing their lips. Robin

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considers the ugly leaden starburst that they
have created, the silvery pock that now

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mars what should have been porcelain's skin. It looks awful. Not that the

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rest of Robin's drawing has been coming
along any better. Their lines are too

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thick or too dark, maybe both. Something had gone very wrong anyway,

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and Robin can't quite pinpoint the root
cause Beneath the symptoms. They can only

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frown at this uncanny cartoon that defiles
their sketchpad on paper. Victoria's lopsided eyes

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stare back her pigtails. A pair
of gravity defying corkscrews prod uncomfortably at the

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white abyss. The vintage violet dress
she wears is a patchwork of sharp angles.

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If Robin had not spent the past
few weeks making a concerted effort to

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keep everything together. They would have
ripped the page and the sketchbook, and

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god knows what else to ribbons.
Would you like to talk about the modeling

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practice you've had, not really shading? Maybe shading will help. Robin applies

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themselves to pooling shadows beneath Victoria's nose
and chin, pressing so hard with their

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pencil that the surface of those puddles
started to shine with reflected light. Excess

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lead is wafted about by their frantic
scratching. Those moats become smudges beneath the

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heel of their palm. Darkness spread, leaving stains exclusively where Robin doesn't want

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them. Yeah, that sounds about
right. Robin has said it before,

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and they'll say it again. They're
shit at this. You are not shit

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at this. You're dramatic, that's
all. Look see here, your proportions

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are getting better, and there's a
lot of great energy to this party.

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Where her hair hits her shoulder.
It's a good effort, sweetheart. Robin

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can almost hear Rosette say her voice
soft in that way it would get when

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she was trying not to laugh at
her poor frustrated partner. You know,

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a poem and a sketch are both
built from connective lines, but in the

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case of the latter, those lines
don't need to be quite so distinct.

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Maybe try again, stubbornly, bitterly, Robin does not try again. They

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keep adding more lines, more shadows, more, more more, until the

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whole damn page is less a portrait
of Victoria and more a reproduction of that

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writhing black pit that exists where Robin's
heart had once beat. Poised demurely on

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the end of her seat, Victoria
cocks her head, watching with amused interest

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as Robin's scribbles go from guarded to
harsh, too wildly erratic. What are

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you doing moving? Isn't that the
question I'm expressing myself? Is something?

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The matter is something. The matter
is something. The matter. Robin wants

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to laugh. They can feel the
sharp of the sound and the base of

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their throat digging into soft, vulnerable
places in a way that leeve them tasting

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blood. Maybe opening their mouth and
spinning out those broken noises would help,

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But no, no, Robin suppresses
the urge. Laughing would be inappropriate.

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Laughing would make Robin look crazy.
Robin is already worried that they are going

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crazy. Maybe it's because of this
antiquated space, but they find themselves imagining

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the inside of their own soul like
it is one of those old fashioned phone

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operator rooms, their heart and brain
connected by a switchboard of multicolored cables,

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and they are desperately yanking at live
quartz, taking them out of plugs and

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sockets because they know that all the
wires have recently been crossed, and they

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just haven't had the time or the
energy to figure out how to fix them.

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Theoretically, Robin supposes now would be
the time to fix them. Now

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is when they ought to muster up
what little energy they have and try to

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00:20:03.279 --> 00:20:08.200
sort everything else. That's the reason
people go to therapy, isn't it.

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Robin presses their fingers flat to the
paper, smearing its Gordian tangle of lines

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00:20:15.079 --> 00:20:22.519
into a single stag. That's swirling
awfulness. It's fine, it doesn't have

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to be. It's nothing. I
mean, it's not nothing. It's I'm

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sorry. Are you why I'm pain
dramatic? You're experiencing emotions. That is

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a difference. I don't want to
talk about it. And how has that

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been working out for you? For
someone who puts so much stock in words,

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Robin. You really are quite terrible
at using them, aren't you.

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I did say so you did.
But self awareness doesn't do you any good

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if you don't act upon that knowledge, meaning that there is a time and

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place for speaking, and a time
and a place for silence. And I

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rather think that using your words is
what you ought to be practicing right now,

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00:21:14.599 --> 00:21:19.000
not drawings. Fine, we can
talk more. You mentioned being scattered.

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How is that? Well, the
job never went anywhere except my own

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00:21:23.799 --> 00:21:30.799
base VID. But I suppose I
meet interesting people. This isn't about me,

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00:21:30.000 --> 00:21:37.200
though, Robin. Let's discuss who
you meet while modeling A name was

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00:21:37.359 --> 00:21:42.240
rosette en away? I believe it
is a strange sensation, Robin moles to

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00:21:42.319 --> 00:21:48.920
be aware of all their skin,
the way it trembles and itches and aches,

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00:21:48.960 --> 00:21:56.039
and yet unable to feel anything through
it, nothing beneath it. All

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that holds them together are tense threads
of static, the collapse or gravity of

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00:22:00.319 --> 00:22:07.000
the pit that has been growing within
their chest since the day, since the

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day that rosettes Robin. Just go
home, Okay, I'm busy. I

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have to finish this before It's already
hard to hold the paper sheet up I

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don't have much. There isn't much
time. One. Have you heard that

224
00:22:33.039 --> 00:22:38.119
old superstition, the one about cameras
and how they track people's south lashes?

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Flickering low Victoria's shifts to catch Robin's
eyes, holding their gaze over the zenias

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and the vase at the end of
the table. The blossoms are a natural

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kaleidoscope, comprised of reflections and versions
and complimentary copies, all shifting like shards

228
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of loose glass. Well, that
would be the poetic comparison, anyway,

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00:23:03.519 --> 00:23:10.039
the analogy that Robin might have written
before everything, But now what each pedal

230
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most reminds Robin of our brushstrokes?
Hundreds of meticulous brushstrokes layered with infinite patients.

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There are reds and yellows, There
are whites and magentas. There are

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mixes that, in their gradients,
blend the bouquet into a cohesive whole,

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almost literally. Robin would believe if
the blending were literal, something accomplished with

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00:23:33.440 --> 00:23:40.000
tempera and time. There is an
intensity to the flowers colors, a pureness

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of hue that to this point they
have only seen in pink pigments squeezed directly

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from the tube. The thought,
in turn, squeezes something in Robin's chest.

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Victoria offers a sympathetic giggle. I
Robin, you needn't worry about that.

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It is only then that it occurs
to Robin that something doesn't seem right

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00:24:03.519 --> 00:24:10.519
about this, about any of this, really, but especially about how vibrant

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00:24:10.519 --> 00:24:14.799
those zinnias are, or the fact
that there are zennias here at all.

241
00:24:15.559 --> 00:24:22.200
The smile that spreads across Victoria's face, it's corners crawling like a vine of

242
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great bindweed, her lips curled beneath
the damask roses of her cheeks, and

243
00:24:27.160 --> 00:24:33.359
above those blooms, a little girl's
eyes glow with the greenness of summer leaves.

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My soul isn't stuck in some funny
old camerap Neither is yours, for

245
00:24:38.599 --> 00:24:44.880
that matter, if Robin had been
paying better attention might have occurred to them

246
00:24:44.880 --> 00:24:48.480
that this was a very strange comfort
to offer. As it is, they

247
00:24:48.480 --> 00:24:53.400
are too busy trying to piece together
their jumbled thoughts and the puzzle that grows

248
00:24:53.440 --> 00:25:00.680
before them. I know it's not
photographs, that's still people as the lives

249
00:25:00.720 --> 00:25:10.079
away. It's paintings, is it. I I'm sorry, I just did

250
00:25:10.119 --> 00:25:14.920
I miss something or someone? Did
someone come by? I don't believe.

251
00:25:14.960 --> 00:25:22.160
So why those changed the flowers?
They're different now, I should hope.

252
00:25:22.200 --> 00:25:30.279
So transformation is the resondetra of this
place. What tell me more about how

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00:25:30.359 --> 00:25:36.079
painting is still a person's life.
I don't think. No, no,

254
00:25:36.319 --> 00:25:41.319
Look, I'm sure your mom or
dad or whoever is a good therapist,

255
00:25:41.599 --> 00:25:44.799
and that you've picked up a few
tips and tricks from them. But I

256
00:25:44.839 --> 00:25:51.000
don't think I'm comfortable you've got it
all well and silly. My parents aren't

257
00:25:51.039 --> 00:25:55.720
therapists, nor am I you for
that matter? Right? Sure, okay,

258
00:25:55.799 --> 00:25:59.720
then I'm sure whoever it is you're
related to in this building is a

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00:25:59.759 --> 00:26:03.920
good therapist. Personally, I wouldn't
call my little brother a good anything.

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00:26:06.400 --> 00:26:12.960
You're a little No No, I
meant whoever on staff you're related to,

261
00:26:14.720 --> 00:26:18.359
the person that let you play behind
the front desk, or unless wait,

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00:26:19.000 --> 00:26:25.960
are you another patient? Did all
of my personal information get given to another

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00:26:26.039 --> 00:26:32.200
patient? I told you I'm not
a patient. I'm Victoria and I am

264
00:26:32.400 --> 00:26:37.279
here to help. Now. Is
your drawing just about Finnish Robin? I

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00:26:37.319 --> 00:26:41.039
think it's time we added it to
the gallery. You have a gallery,

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00:26:41.279 --> 00:26:45.960
yes, and no, the gallery
is in my building. That much is

267
00:26:47.000 --> 00:26:51.960
true, but it actually belongs to
you. How could it possibly belong to

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00:26:52.000 --> 00:26:56.079
me? You'll understand when you see
it. Come along. It's just a

269
00:26:56.160 --> 00:27:07.680
lift ride away. The lift in
question is an elegant snarl of wirework and

270
00:27:07.799 --> 00:27:12.880
polished brass, waiting with doors wide
open on the far end of the lobby.

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00:27:14.680 --> 00:27:18.759
Even if Robin hadn't been instructed to
wait, they wouldn't have risked taking

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00:27:18.799 --> 00:27:22.160
the elevator. It is an antiquated
thing, much like the building that it

273
00:27:22.279 --> 00:27:26.559
services, which is all well and
good when it comes to interior design,

274
00:27:26.680 --> 00:27:34.240
but technology. Robin winces as they
are half guided, half pulled into the

275
00:27:34.240 --> 00:27:41.000
empty car, the molders and their
grimace grinding his metal moans beneath their feet.

276
00:27:41.880 --> 00:27:47.079
The sound is disconcertingly similar to that
of someone in agony, and echoes

277
00:27:47.119 --> 00:27:56.119
like a paintbrush falling from pain crippled
hands. Can't we take the stairs please?

278
00:27:57.200 --> 00:28:04.079
I'm afraid not stairs offered too much
autonomy. What do you mean by

279
00:28:04.160 --> 00:28:10.440
that? I mean that if you'd
been able to climb the stairs and face

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00:28:10.519 --> 00:28:14.480
what needed facing by your own power, you wouldn't have found yourself here in

281
00:28:14.480 --> 00:28:19.119
the first place. How could you
possibly know on the day of Rosette's death,

282
00:28:19.960 --> 00:28:23.880
how long did you stand at the
base of the hospital steps. If

283
00:28:23.960 --> 00:28:29.440
Robin hadn't already been staring at the
floor, willing it to maintain a structural

284
00:28:29.559 --> 00:28:33.519
integrity, then they would have believed
that had collapsed beneath them, dropping them

285
00:28:33.519 --> 00:28:41.480
into the void. That's not fair. How long, Robin, You don't

286
00:28:41.559 --> 00:28:48.880
understand? How long an hour?
When I got to the hospital, she

287
00:28:49.119 --> 00:29:00.359
was still alive. That's what they
told me after I I was so angry.

288
00:29:00.839 --> 00:29:04.519
I couldn't make my body move.
I couldn't take the first step.

289
00:29:06.160 --> 00:29:14.519
I just stood there staring at them. That's why I never got to say

290
00:29:14.559 --> 00:29:19.640
goodbye, exactly. And so I'm
afraid the stairs won't take you to the

291
00:29:19.680 --> 00:29:26.720
place you need to go. Fingernails
digging into their atrocious sketch, Robin sniffles,

292
00:29:26.960 --> 00:29:32.759
glowering at their acrylic spattered shoes.
There were still scuff marks on the

293
00:29:32.759 --> 00:29:40.880
toecaps left behind or the concrete of
that first step. It wasn't my fault,

294
00:29:41.440 --> 00:29:45.640
not really, not completely. Rosette
was the one who told me to

295
00:29:45.720 --> 00:29:49.799
leave. She was the one who
wanted to finish that stupid picture. It

296
00:29:49.880 --> 00:29:53.920
was more important to her than spending
time with me, even at the very

297
00:29:55.039 --> 00:30:00.079
end. Yes, that was a
funny choice in your part on my part.

298
00:30:02.319 --> 00:30:04.920
Well, she gave you another option, didn't she. I try not

299
00:30:06.000 --> 00:30:11.000
to judge more than is necessary,
but I must say I struggle to understand

300
00:30:11.079 --> 00:30:15.440
why you choose to honor her second
request rather than her first. I suppose

301
00:30:15.519 --> 00:30:22.079
a proper therapist might cite the very
human instinct to let go of something before

302
00:30:22.079 --> 00:30:26.160
it can hurt you. That does
that really apply here? It seems to

303
00:30:26.200 --> 00:30:30.440
me that you're much more deeply hurt
now than you would have been otherwise.

304
00:30:30.440 --> 00:30:34.799
Robin wants to scream at her,
would scream at her were they able,

305
00:30:36.680 --> 00:30:41.319
But victorious words had struck them like
a punch to the guts, rendering Robin

306
00:30:41.440 --> 00:30:48.640
breathless, speechless, and stunned.
All that moves or Robin's molten glass tears,

307
00:30:48.640 --> 00:30:53.319
threatening blisters as they slide down their
cheeks. One lends atop the drawing,

308
00:30:55.000 --> 00:31:00.759
further smearing Robin's horrendous rendition of Victoria. The other splatter on the elevator's

309
00:31:00.759 --> 00:31:04.880
floor tiles, oozing through the cracks
and the grouts and feeding what grows there?

310
00:31:07.279 --> 00:31:14.000
Wait, what grows there? Turning
their head, Robin stares into the

311
00:31:14.039 --> 00:31:18.359
dirt, dark shadows that can seal
the lift's back corner. And yes,

312
00:31:19.880 --> 00:31:29.240
there, just there, there's a
plant, a flower, a creeping,

313
00:31:29.720 --> 00:31:34.599
lignious stalk, poking through the grate
where the wall and flooring meat. It

314
00:31:34.759 --> 00:31:41.680
is small, yet and as immaculate
as any springtime bud. But before Robin's

315
00:31:41.680 --> 00:31:47.319
bleary eyes, a cluster of star
white flowers bloom upon that straining branch,

316
00:31:48.279 --> 00:31:56.440
A series of strange constellations connected by
lines drawn down silken petals. Robin,

317
00:31:56.799 --> 00:32:04.519
baffled, blinks at the Asphodel.
The Asphodel resolute waves hello, or it

318
00:32:04.680 --> 00:32:09.039
seems to anyway. It doesn't really, no, of course not. It's

319
00:32:10.319 --> 00:32:15.000
it's simply stuck in the lifts,
hidden mechanics made to move as the gears

320
00:32:15.039 --> 00:32:22.799
do. Why is it there,
though? How? Where is it rooted

321
00:32:22.440 --> 00:32:29.400
in the shaft's foundation If a dandelion
can push through cement, Robin reasons it's

322
00:32:29.440 --> 00:32:35.119
technically feasible. But christ is it
taller? Now? Just a moment ago,

323
00:32:35.119 --> 00:32:39.240
it barely reached Robin's ankle. Now
it's at their shin their knee,

324
00:32:39.240 --> 00:32:47.880
and oh, there's another one and
a third the tallest of its spikes,

325
00:32:47.880 --> 00:32:54.599
reaching through the ornate bars that not
beneath the operating panel. Idea ike rather

326
00:32:54.680 --> 00:33:00.880
thought we had more time. I
ain't vote for chattering, I suppose six

327
00:33:00.000 --> 00:33:08.000
blow. The announcement is punctuated by
a belle's cheery toll and the unpleasant elastic

328
00:33:08.079 --> 00:33:14.960
straining of weeds struggling to remain rooted. Their effort is valiant, no match

329
00:33:15.039 --> 00:33:20.599
for the lift. Crack snap,
and the Asphodel's petals become a shower at

330
00:33:20.640 --> 00:33:27.440
pale meteors. Mystifying Robin can do
nothing but continue to stare. The ruined

331
00:33:27.480 --> 00:33:32.000
stems remain threaded through the elevator's decorative
gaps, clinging to the car's bottom with

332
00:33:32.079 --> 00:33:37.400
the tenacity of severed hands. Beneath
the lift's rumbles, Robin can hear those

333
00:33:37.440 --> 00:33:45.519
desiccated offshoots jutter and jabber and jostle
around uselessly. It is useless, isn't

334
00:33:45.559 --> 00:33:52.200
it? What regret? Unless it
inspires a matter of change, It's useless.

335
00:33:52.880 --> 00:33:58.599
What are you talking about? Did
you just read my mind? Here

336
00:33:58.640 --> 00:34:06.359
we are at the funeral. Robin
had overheard one of Rosette's more new agy

337
00:34:06.440 --> 00:34:12.199
ants make allusions to the veil,
and how tragic it was that her niece

338
00:34:12.239 --> 00:34:16.360
was now beyond it. The man
with whom she had been talking nodded his

339
00:34:16.440 --> 00:34:22.920
somber agreement, but Robin had wanted
to scream at the wrongness of the words.

340
00:34:23.280 --> 00:34:29.599
The stupidity of the idiom. Veil
is gossamer, thin, elegant,

341
00:34:29.840 --> 00:34:36.519
and easy to remove. But death. Death is an interminable pit of cold.

342
00:34:36.639 --> 00:34:42.119
Soil presses, and it processes,
and it does not allow escape.

343
00:34:42.480 --> 00:34:46.519
There is no other side to it. It cannot be shaken off, or

344
00:34:46.639 --> 00:34:52.239
dug from, or opened up.
Yet as the doors of Victoria's lift draw

345
00:34:52.280 --> 00:34:58.719
apart, they move with such ineffable
smoothness Robin finds themselves reminded of a veil

346
00:35:00.079 --> 00:35:21.519
beyond it. Beyond it is Rosette's
studio apartment. This isn't possible. It

347
00:35:21.559 --> 00:35:25.960
can't be possible. It shouldn't be
possible. The very idea is insane.

348
00:35:28.079 --> 00:35:34.119
But there is no mistaking the room
that waits beyond the elevator's threshold, as

349
00:35:34.119 --> 00:35:37.960
small and as sunlit as it had
always been, it is exactly as Robin

350
00:35:38.039 --> 00:35:44.360
knows it should be. Not one
pen is out of place. There in

351
00:35:44.360 --> 00:35:49.639
the corner is the wobbly old stool
that Robin used to model on it's uneven

352
00:35:49.719 --> 00:35:54.440
leg missing flakes of blue paint.
There on the kitchenette counter is the porcelain

353
00:35:54.480 --> 00:35:59.760
bowl that Rosette used for water and
painting after the incident with the team mug.

354
00:36:00.119 --> 00:36:05.559
And there on the window seat is
the unfurled, crocheted blanket, A

355
00:36:05.679 --> 00:36:08.000
signal developed to let the other know
that they needed to sit down and talk.

356
00:36:08.960 --> 00:36:17.559
So I got a call from the
doctor today about my test results,

357
00:36:19.719 --> 00:36:28.639
and the NUDS wasn't good, Robin. A surge of emotion rushes through Robin,

358
00:36:29.079 --> 00:36:32.119
too virulent and powerful to be understood. All they can do is hold

359
00:36:32.159 --> 00:36:37.519
their breath and endure it. They
try not to be swept away. Come

360
00:36:37.559 --> 00:36:42.280
back, please, Robin. You've
been to enough exhibits to realize that they

361
00:36:42.280 --> 00:36:46.760
are meant to be viewed in a
certain order. Robin startles, finding themselves

362
00:36:46.800 --> 00:36:52.559
in the middle of the room before
they even realized they'd moved. Victoria lingers

363
00:36:52.599 --> 00:36:59.440
behind them, staring pointedly at a
nearby wall. Robin doesn't question her attention

364
00:36:59.480 --> 00:37:05.440
at first, having themselves spent countless
hours admiring the rainbows painted across it by

365
00:37:05.519 --> 00:37:10.960
Rosette. Suncatchers. But then Victoria
begins to read aloud, and Robin's own

366
00:37:12.000 --> 00:37:17.480
focus shifts from the overgrown macromay plant
anchors to an unfamiliar plaque Welcome to the

367
00:37:17.559 --> 00:37:23.239
Egglan Team Gallery. A tangle of
the flowers in question cascade over the signs

368
00:37:23.360 --> 00:37:28.960
edges, hanging from its ornate metalwork
by the hooks of its thorns. The

369
00:37:29.039 --> 00:37:32.920
sunburst yellow center of the blossoms paint
their own rainbows, and Robin gas at

370
00:37:32.920 --> 00:37:42.480
the prismatic petals, vibrantly pink and
smelling of apples. This no, this

371
00:37:42.639 --> 00:37:49.039
doesn't make sense. That isn't it, Given your artistic history and the theme

372
00:37:49.079 --> 00:37:53.760
of the collection, I argue that
it's exceptionally well suited. Not the name.

373
00:37:54.119 --> 00:38:00.000
I mean this, all of this. This isn't an art gallery,

374
00:38:00.039 --> 00:38:06.480
an apartment. It's Rosette's apartment.
Except except it can't be that either.

375
00:38:06.800 --> 00:38:10.719
We sold Rosette's apartment months ago.
This stuff too, This can't be here.

376
00:38:10.800 --> 00:38:16.480
We can't be here, and we
aren't. We aren't here, at

377
00:38:16.519 --> 00:38:22.480
least not the here to which you
are referring. Like I said, we're

378
00:38:22.559 --> 00:38:28.400
in your gallery in my building.
There's knowing that makes you feel better or

379
00:38:28.480 --> 00:38:34.880
worse. I feel like I'm losing
my mind. Believe me, there are

380
00:38:34.960 --> 00:38:38.800
worse things to lose. Why are
you doing this? The clues in the

381
00:38:38.920 --> 00:38:45.199
name. Honestly, Robin, symbolism
is as prevalent in poetry as it is

382
00:38:45.239 --> 00:38:51.239
in physical art. Start thinking like
an artist, a poet. A puzzle's

383
00:38:51.280 --> 00:38:55.000
over, now, come along,
take me on the ground tour. Oh,

384
00:38:55.079 --> 00:39:00.880
let's start over here, shall we. With one small hand, Victoria

385
00:39:00.960 --> 00:39:05.920
gestures to a canvas hung on the
other side of the room. Robin doesn't

386
00:39:05.920 --> 00:39:09.400
remember there being a painting above the
wobbly old stool, but much like the

387
00:39:09.400 --> 00:39:15.239
bouquet in the lobby, it's undeniably
there. Now. Robin isn't even surprised

388
00:39:15.239 --> 00:39:22.360
anymore, nor do they protest when
Victoria gently guides them closer. Their footfalls

389
00:39:22.440 --> 00:39:29.679
muffled by Warren carpet and an elegiac
melody hidden somewhere amongst Rosette's many trinkets.

390
00:39:30.199 --> 00:39:35.079
The music box trips over the notes
of a chord. Tell me about this

391
00:39:35.280 --> 00:39:44.119
painting, please. It's a closeup
of petunias done in watercolors. And true

392
00:39:44.239 --> 00:39:47.280
art is never just what one sees
on the surface. There is always other

393
00:39:47.360 --> 00:39:52.639
messages. Maybe they are meant for
one person, or all people, or

394
00:39:52.840 --> 00:40:00.239
just the artists themselves, but they
are always there. So dig deeper day

395
00:40:00.320 --> 00:40:06.440
that Peginia's mean Robert, they mean
resentment, they mean anger. I've a

396
00:40:06.639 --> 00:40:12.719
what life. Everything my parents had
basically washed their hands of me. I

397
00:40:12.840 --> 00:40:15.760
was stuck sharing a house with six
of the world's shittiest roommates, and on

398
00:40:15.840 --> 00:40:20.599
top of that, none of my
poetry was selling. I guess I wasn't

399
00:40:20.639 --> 00:40:25.079
suffering quite enough, you know,
to be a real artist. So I'd

400
00:40:25.119 --> 00:40:29.639
come over to Rosette's place and I'd
sit on this stool and she'd let me

401
00:40:29.840 --> 00:40:32.760
bitch about it. I guess I
was animated when I ranted, because one

402
00:40:32.840 --> 00:40:37.159
day she asked if she could sketch
me while listening. I figured it was

403
00:40:37.199 --> 00:40:40.360
at least I could do. I
didn't want to waste her time. And

404
00:40:40.480 --> 00:40:46.039
eventually, I don't know, I
didn't have as much to complain about,

405
00:40:47.000 --> 00:40:52.960
and me modeling for Rosette just became
a thing. And that made you angry

406
00:40:52.000 --> 00:41:01.519
too. You've resented that. No, No, many flowers symbolize more than

407
00:41:01.599 --> 00:41:07.519
one thing. Petunias can refer to
anger and resentment, but also to hope.

408
00:41:07.559 --> 00:41:10.760
They used to be gifted to people
you wanted to spend time with because

409
00:41:10.800 --> 00:41:20.719
you found their presence soothing intriguing.
And what about that piece. Following Victoria's

410
00:41:20.719 --> 00:41:23.719
gaze to the kitchen att counter,
Robin notices a fresco of wax and pink

411
00:41:23.760 --> 00:41:30.639
camellias flourishing behind the porcelain bowl.
The breath that escapes them is tinged more

412
00:41:30.679 --> 00:41:37.039
with amusement than alarm, and again
they do not resist Victoria's poll when she

413
00:41:37.119 --> 00:41:40.960
drags them closer, trying to get
a better look at the installation. Camelias

414
00:41:40.960 --> 00:41:47.119
in general represent love, gratitude,
and devotion, but pink ones are often

415
00:41:47.159 --> 00:41:52.559
a symbol of longing. I've been
casually modeling for Rosette for about a year

416
00:41:52.639 --> 00:42:01.440
when she asked if I might be
comfortable hosing well nake, Oh dear,

417
00:42:02.079 --> 00:42:09.960
it was a perfectly professional request,
it really was. Drawing nude bodies is

418
00:42:10.000 --> 00:42:14.719
so common a practice in the art
world. Rose I didn't even bat an

419
00:42:14.719 --> 00:42:19.360
eyelash asking, and I didn't mind. I'd done it before, even for

420
00:42:19.440 --> 00:42:22.280
that figures class I'd worked for the
one we'd met in, so I didn't

421
00:42:22.280 --> 00:42:25.440
think anything of it, and I
don't think she really did either. But

422
00:42:25.519 --> 00:42:31.800
then, well, when my clothes
actually came off, she got so blustered.

423
00:42:36.679 --> 00:42:40.800
Honestly, it was adorable, well
at least until she mixed up her

424
00:42:40.920 --> 00:42:45.840
tea in a cup of old paint
water. Then it was hilarious. And

425
00:42:46.039 --> 00:42:58.400
the drawing she didn't finish it.
We got distracted by other things. After

426
00:42:58.440 --> 00:43:06.480
that we were together. But how
long? Not long enough? What a

427
00:43:06.559 --> 00:43:10.320
pity is that a theme of this
picture? Robin does not offer an answer

428
00:43:10.559 --> 00:43:15.440
because they are directed to the window
seat, where propped in the folds of

429
00:43:15.480 --> 00:43:21.599
the rumpled crochet blanket is a photo
framed sketch of purple hyacinth sprouting in a

430
00:43:21.679 --> 00:43:28.880
garden. Well is that the theme? Yes, four years isn't nothing.

431
00:43:28.920 --> 00:43:35.920
But we could have had more.
We should have had more, even just

432
00:43:36.039 --> 00:43:40.000
a little more. But the cancer
spread so damn fast, and Rosette was

433
00:43:40.159 --> 00:43:45.159
adamant that she complete one last painting. Finishing It was all that mattered to

434
00:43:45.199 --> 00:43:50.639
her. It was more important than
spending time with her friends, or her

435
00:43:50.719 --> 00:44:00.159
family or o Ye, that fucking
picture consumed the rest of Rosette's life.

436
00:44:00.760 --> 00:44:06.119
She could have spent it on so
much else, on anything else, Or

437
00:44:06.199 --> 00:44:09.199
we could have gone to the botanical
garden one last time. We could have

438
00:44:09.280 --> 00:44:15.519
made magnetic poetry. We could have
played god damn bananagrams with her brother.

439
00:44:15.679 --> 00:44:19.920
I wouldn't have cared, just so
long as we could have spent that time

440
00:44:20.079 --> 00:44:27.039
together. But no, she locked
me out, and five months later she

441
00:44:27.239 --> 00:44:31.000
was dead, and we'll never get
that time back. Have you ever seen

442
00:44:31.280 --> 00:44:36.880
Rosette Greenaway's final painting? I don't
want to see it. She willed it

443
00:44:36.960 --> 00:44:42.159
to you. I said, I
don't want to see it. And Rosette

444
00:44:42.159 --> 00:44:45.679
wanted you to plant flowers in her
memory, but you refused. What else

445
00:44:45.800 --> 00:44:51.840
was she meant to do? Robin
recoils the accusation, landing with the physicality

446
00:44:51.840 --> 00:44:57.639
of a slap. Blood rises in
their cheeks, their ears ring, and

447
00:44:57.920 --> 00:45:02.039
beneath the tinny residence of their own
sting hurt. Robin hears again the memory

448
00:45:02.039 --> 00:45:07.800
of Rosette's voice, back when she
would still allow Robin to visit. I'm

449
00:45:07.800 --> 00:45:13.320
going to write you a list of
what to plan. There'll be a secret

450
00:45:13.400 --> 00:45:19.519
until then, but you have to
promise me that you'll do it. Will

451
00:45:19.519 --> 00:45:24.800
you promise, Robin? Robin hadn't
promised. Robin doesn't remember what they'd said,

452
00:45:25.360 --> 00:45:30.719
but that doesn't matter anymore. They
don't need to remember, because they

453
00:45:30.760 --> 00:45:36.599
can hear it and their own words
and their own voice. The reply drifts

454
00:45:36.599 --> 00:45:39.840
from the direction of the kitchen table, threaded like lyrics through the melody of

455
00:45:39.840 --> 00:45:46.639
the music box. I no,
I can't, Rosette. I'm sorry,

456
00:45:46.679 --> 00:45:52.840
I just I couldn't handle watching anything
else die, not after this. There

457
00:45:52.920 --> 00:45:58.280
is no point to the hand that
Robin claps over their mouth. It does

458
00:45:58.360 --> 00:46:04.480
nothing change, just nothing. Their
rejection still echoes, and the music box

459
00:46:04.519 --> 00:46:10.039
still plays louder with every step Robin
takes towards the table. Robin almost doesn't

460
00:46:10.079 --> 00:46:15.360
recognize that table. When Rosette was
alive, it was always blotted with pastels

461
00:46:15.400 --> 00:46:20.880
and charcoal, laden with bottles and
brushes and t shirts. She hadn't meant

462
00:46:20.920 --> 00:46:24.400
to turn into paint rags, but
one accident led to another, and Rosette

463
00:46:24.440 --> 00:46:31.199
never said no to more paint rags. That was then, though Now it's

464
00:46:31.280 --> 00:46:36.559
clean. All the stains have been
scrubbed off, and there are only two

465
00:46:36.599 --> 00:46:42.639
things left atop it, victorious music
box and a gilt framed canvas on a

466
00:46:42.679 --> 00:46:49.639
miniature easel draped with a piece of
cloth. The fabric is gossamer, thin,

467
00:46:50.840 --> 00:46:59.000
elegant and easy to remove another veil. It flutters, revealing nothing.

468
00:47:00.159 --> 00:47:06.039
When Victoria moves to stand beside it, beside the picture, Robin needs to

469
00:47:06.039 --> 00:47:10.639
brace themselves against the table to remain
upright. Your whole body weak is wet

470
00:47:10.679 --> 00:47:20.760
paper, This is heart is long, and time is fleeting. Longfellow wrote

471
00:47:20.760 --> 00:47:25.239
that Rosette wanted to leave you with
these living reminders once that would grow and

472
00:47:25.360 --> 00:47:30.519
flourish after she was gone. But
you were too afraid of that which is

473
00:47:30.519 --> 00:47:37.880
inevitable. You forgot that an integral
part of beauty is its transience. You

474
00:47:37.039 --> 00:47:42.119
wanted something that would last, and
Rosette's sought to give that to you.

475
00:47:42.880 --> 00:47:47.079
That wasn't what I'd meant. That
wasn't what I wanted. This isn't what

476
00:47:47.159 --> 00:47:53.599
I wanted. I'm afraid that is
irrelevant. What you wanted, what you

477
00:47:53.679 --> 00:48:00.960
meant, It means nothing now that
moment has passed. What that matters is

478
00:48:00.039 --> 00:48:05.159
life in this moment, and whether
you want it to or not, Robin,

479
00:48:05.800 --> 00:48:09.119
what you have in this moment is
a choice to make, and what

480
00:48:09.199 --> 00:48:16.199
you need is to make it a
choice. Rosette spent her last days completing

481
00:48:16.199 --> 00:48:22.079
this for you. That was her
choice, but accepting that decision, respecting

482
00:48:22.119 --> 00:48:28.239
her wishes, acknowledging what she wanted
to tell you, and coming to terms

483
00:48:28.280 --> 00:48:34.440
with your loss. That is your
choice. Rosette's painting looms on its makeshift

484
00:48:34.519 --> 00:48:39.639
plength, the spectral monument to what
F's and what could have been, to

485
00:48:39.840 --> 00:48:45.559
so much and to nothing at all. The tears are starting to well again,

486
00:48:46.440 --> 00:48:52.480
white hot and pedaled as they spill
down Robin's face. They smell like

487
00:48:52.599 --> 00:49:02.239
that elevator. They smell like Asphodel. It's not fair. I've never even

488
00:49:02.280 --> 00:49:09.320
cut to say goodbye. No you
didn't, And whatever happens here, regardless

489
00:49:09.360 --> 00:49:14.519
of what you decide, that won't
change. But there is more than one

490
00:49:14.599 --> 00:49:19.440
way to bid a loved one farewell. Kisses, hugs, small tokens of

491
00:49:19.480 --> 00:49:24.440
remembrance, ultive candles and incense sticks
to offer light in the dark, memorial

492
00:49:24.519 --> 00:49:30.880
photos and scrap books, smooth stones
left on a cleaned grave. As I

493
00:49:30.920 --> 00:49:35.239
said, there is a time and
a place for speaking, and a time

494
00:49:35.239 --> 00:49:38.480
and a place for silence. It
isn't always about the words you use,

495
00:49:38.599 --> 00:49:45.239
Robin. Often it is about the
words you don't. As a poet,

496
00:49:45.320 --> 00:49:52.239
you surely must know that the shroud
ripples and the answering quiet stirred by Robin's

497
00:49:52.320 --> 00:49:59.000
nid. Beneath those gentle black waves, Robin glimpses the promise of green,

498
00:50:00.119 --> 00:50:12.840
verdant and vibrant, vivid and undying. They ripped the veil away. In

499
00:50:12.920 --> 00:50:17.559
the golden glow of afternoon, Rosette's
canvas bursts into bloom, like a living

500
00:50:17.679 --> 00:50:24.840
thing, a phantasmagoric garden of painted
poetry, where acrylics bleed into emotions,

501
00:50:25.159 --> 00:50:31.360
and emotions meld back into acrylics,
as a wild and wonderful mess, woven

502
00:50:31.360 --> 00:50:37.599
into patterns that nature would struggle to
allow, but by Rosette's hand, the

503
00:50:37.719 --> 00:50:45.920
arrangement feels organic, feels real.
Before Robin's eyes, colors dripped down the

504
00:50:45.000 --> 00:50:51.440
ruffled edges of gathered carnations, making
the tips of their ivory petals blush.

505
00:50:51.639 --> 00:50:58.920
The magenta azelius beside them act as
accent translucent and dew dropped and redolent of

506
00:50:59.000 --> 00:51:05.440
stained glass. White clover fills the
gaps between the pale purple flocks, while

507
00:51:05.480 --> 00:51:09.840
around a twirling braid of morning glories, cling pendant bundles of arbutus, there

508
00:51:09.840 --> 00:51:15.960
are orchids and tulips, asters and
forget me nots, and they're in the

509
00:51:15.039 --> 00:51:21.960
center, caught an a delicate breeze, a waving patch of sweet peas.

510
00:51:22.320 --> 00:51:28.840
Robin can almost hear the blossoms whispering
against each other. Soft is one hand

511
00:51:28.920 --> 00:51:35.440
releasing another. It is the sound
of letting go. It is the sound

512
00:51:36.199 --> 00:51:43.280
of a goodbye stood patiently beside Robin. Victoria lays a palm atop her music

513
00:51:43.320 --> 00:51:52.000
box, ending its song. You're
very lucky, you know, am I.

514
00:51:55.360 --> 00:51:59.719
It's true that many of us are
never afforded the chance to say goodbye

515
00:51:59.760 --> 00:52:05.000
to as we care about. But
I think perhaps it's rare still to be

516
00:52:05.039 --> 00:52:09.159
a chosen recipient of such a goodbye, especially one is eloquent and beautiful as

517
00:52:09.199 --> 00:52:15.000
this. So, yes, you
are very lucky. Now you will never

518
00:52:15.039 --> 00:52:21.679
forget that love doesn't die. Robin
can think of nothing to say to this,

519
00:52:22.039 --> 00:52:28.880
nothing that feels adequate anyway, But
that is okay. Sometimes it is

520
00:52:28.880 --> 00:52:34.760
about the words one uses, but
sometimes it is about the words they don't.

521
00:52:38.159 --> 00:52:45.840
Victoria, Yes, this painting was
willed to me, right, you

522
00:52:45.920 --> 00:52:50.960
said that? So can I have
it? Can I keep it? Goodness?

523
00:52:51.039 --> 00:52:53.320
Have you forgotten where we are?
This is a gallery, Robin.

524
00:52:53.679 --> 00:52:59.920
You can't steal out from a gallery. But it's my gallery. This build

525
00:53:00.239 --> 00:53:05.800
is yours, but the gallery is
mine. That's what you said. Ah,

526
00:53:05.840 --> 00:53:08.280
so I did well. Then I
suppose it was for the taking.

527
00:53:08.639 --> 00:53:13.719
Though this section of the exhibit will
look awfully silly without something on display.

528
00:53:14.199 --> 00:53:17.320
I don't suppose you have a piece
of art with which we might replace this

529
00:53:17.559 --> 00:53:25.320
one. It is only after the
third of Victoria's increasingly pointed looks at Robin's

530
00:53:25.360 --> 00:53:30.880
fist that they remember there is something
clutched within it, something they've held onto

531
00:53:31.400 --> 00:53:37.320
this whole time, the sketch,
or the remnants of the sketch. Anyway,

532
00:53:37.760 --> 00:53:43.039
it looks less like Victoria than it
ever had before. Honestly, it

533
00:53:43.039 --> 00:53:46.400
looks less like a sketch than it
ever had before. Crumpled and sweat blurred,

534
00:53:46.719 --> 00:53:51.880
it more closely resembles a bald up
sheet of monochrome paper than it does

535
00:53:51.960 --> 00:53:57.159
a portrait remains. But when it
opens up like a flower in the palm

536
00:53:57.199 --> 00:54:02.920
of Robin's hand, it almost makes
sense. In spite of themselves, in

537
00:54:02.960 --> 00:54:13.119
spite of everything. Robin has to
laugh. You drive a hard bargain,

538
00:54:13.320 --> 00:54:22.079
Victoria. I like it. It's
a move. Smiling sobbing, Robin lifts

539
00:54:22.159 --> 00:54:28.599
Rosette's painting from the little Wooden Easel
replaces it with their own masterpiece. It's

540
00:54:28.639 --> 00:54:55.719
yours. Thank you for listening to
today's episode of Victoria's Left. We're really

541
00:54:55.719 --> 00:54:59.679
happy that you joined us for the
first episode of the new season, and

542
00:55:00.039 --> 00:55:02.880
we have a great season in store
for you, as well as the second

543
00:55:02.880 --> 00:55:07.239
half of To Those Who Thrive in
the Dark, our mini series by Christopher

544
00:55:07.239 --> 00:55:13.119
Long. Today's author was m Regan
with their story Art Therapy. Today's story

545
00:55:13.159 --> 00:55:17.039
featured me Daniel Foytech as the narrator, Addison Peacock as Rosette, g P.

546
00:55:17.239 --> 00:55:22.760
McKinsey as Robin, and Ambercollins as
Victoria. Our season five producers are

547
00:55:22.840 --> 00:55:28.559
Daniel Foytech and Meg Williams. Our
resident composer and music director is Nico Vedes

548
00:55:28.840 --> 00:55:32.360
of We Talk Of Dreams. Our
art director is Jeanette Andromeda. Artwork for

549
00:55:32.400 --> 00:55:37.639
today's episode was created by Greg Schaefer, our webmaster and graphic designer. Our

550
00:55:37.760 --> 00:55:43.519
editors are Meg Williams and Daniel Foytech. To find out more about today's contributors

551
00:55:43.519 --> 00:55:47.119
and our team, please visit Victoria'slift
dot com and check out their biopages.

552
00:55:47.599 --> 00:55:52.440
If you'd like to help us keep
bringing you Victoria's Adventures. Please consider supporting

553
00:55:52.480 --> 00:55:57.480
us on Patreon at patreon dot com
forward slash Victoria's Lift. You can,

554
00:55:57.559 --> 00:56:00.679
of course follow us on social media
on Instagram and Twitter at Victoria's Left.

555
00:56:01.239 --> 00:56:07.679
Victoria's Left is created by Ninth Story
Studios LLLC. All rights reserved of what