When Doves Cry / Fever

"Snap Studios."

“They give you real a picture of a story that starts with a twist.”

She hears a voice inside of her, "Can you my darling, can you picture this?"

"Dream, if you can't have a winter, alone in the world, it's so cold, maybe we stop the demanding." "Maybe we need understanding." "To full, for our love, serious fever, snap strikes such curious poses." "This is what it sounds like when does cry." "Snap judgment, swords telling me to be, my name is going to be Washington, don't make me chase you."

"Because even doubts have pride, in your listening, to snap doubt." "Snap." "Now, we begin with a question because our stories from Sarah Wright, the ecologist who writes about animal behavior and patterns in the natural world, but there's one truth she knows about

nature that she's never wanted to talk about."

"Why didn't you want to talk about it?" "Because of crazy, a new people in Garner think I was crazy, so I didn't talk about it, period."

“"Snap's an assessment asked pretty pretty please, if she tells us her secret, snap judgment."”

"Sarah Wright told me that if I wanted to talk to her about her story, I'd have to come to her." "So I drove to Western Maine, and ended up in the middle of nowhere in the mountains on a dirt road, and I got narrower and narrower until there was no road left, just forest. And then I got out of the car and walked through the trees."

And then I saw a tiny old woman with two long silver braids and high cheekbones, watering

a patch of wild flowers in front of a log cabin.

"How are you, Ed, I'm good to meet you, good to meet you too." "What a beautiful cabin. Are we going to go on a porch?" "Right now we're going to go inside."

“Sarah brings me inside the cabin, a wood walled living room with an aging couch, a screened”

in porch. And her little white fridge, she's scrolled in black Sharpie, long slanting lists of animals and plants. "I'll say, okay, sand feels alive, and turkey displays, I don't know, I'd do this every year.

Grouse drums, cardinals songs, tape masks of rives." "Oh, it goes around to the front to get around the other side of the fact that there's bears, frogs. She lives, profoundly isolated in the woods, and the winter she has to snows you to her car.

But, she loves the woods. She grew up playing in the great forest of the northeast, with only the animals and her little brother as company." "We had nothing to distract us, and nobody was ever bothering us. We related to almost everything wild to everything we could get our hands on.

I was three years older than my little brother, but we were so amazed." They'd weighed through swamps and build forts and collect frogs. This one time they even got a skunk in a live trap. "My grandmother said, no, don't get near that trap. He's going to spray us, and we said, no, he's not.

He's not. He never did, of course. And so secretly we went to the trap and let him out." And when they did, the skunk walked slowly out of the trap and then turned to the kids and looked them in the eyes.

And that's when they asked it to be their friend. "Did you feel he understood you?" "Oh, absolutely. We both understood that the skunk knew exactly what we were saying and, of course, his behavior, demonstrated his response.

We were friends, and we wanted to catch it now, and better, and we'd like to see him, and all of those are all those sorts of things."

We ran home.

“When we ran home, we immediately told, "We were my parents, and of course, what came”

back was.

You were imagining things, well, the whole incident was discounted as a figment of two

children's imagination." But Sarah was convinced that it wasn't her imagination, and this would be the beginning of a hunch she had, about communication between animals and humans. Sarah and her brother settled the trap near their house again, and did he come back to the trap again?

"Yes again, and again, and again, and he came kind of like a pet. Well, but he wasn't a pet, he was a wild animal." It went on like this.

“They had friendships with animals, and when Sarah and her brother grew up, still, whenever”

they would have encounters with wild animals that they couldn't explain to anyone else, they had each other. Sarah would call him and tell him about the conversation she had with the fesons outside her kitchen window. He would tell her about the new skunk under his house he had befriended.

"I could have just shut up, it was always there, so there were always two of us, and

then there wasn't." Sarah's brother died unexpectedly, and his 20s. My brother and I were very isolated, which was no problem until he died, and after his death it became a huge problem. It was much harder after he got to be just me, because I always had him to depend on.

Once she lost her brother, Sarah's life got pretty dark. She had gone married, but it fell apart. She actually had three kids at this point, but she said she was not able to parent them after her brother died, because she was numb. "I was feeling that the grief I couldn't deal with was a terrible mother who was so hard

for me. I was not emotionally present, I didn't know how to do it." The kids all ended up living with their grandparents, so eventually, after many years of living

“as a shell of a person, Sarah did the only thing that felt right.”

She moved deep into the woods and she began to write about animals and trees. Eventually she was alone. Some days I'm perfectly fine, just being by myself, but there are other days when I am unbearably lonely. I pictured myself as a person who had a family and lots of animals, but the animal part for sure

came through the rest did not. She went to school and she got advanced degrees in ecology, and she could dialogue with her professors and her peers about animal behavior and patterns of the natural world. Then there were other observations. Observations she didn't dare share with your colleagues about interspecies communication.

"Why didn't you want to talk about it?" "Because of crazy, I knew people were going to think I was crazy, so I didn't talk about it. Period." "Tell me, why did you want to do it?" "Oh, gosh, that's such a great question.

That takes me back when I was a very, very small child. When I first learned how to draw, and I was drawing as, you know, it's a toddler. I used to draw little dubs. I had a thing about dubs.

I had always wanted a bird, but I could never, I could not bear the idea of having a

cage bird, because birds need to fly and they need to be free. I was never able to resolve that conflict. But then she discovered an opportunity to save a dove from potentially being killed." "I don't know if I read it or saw it, but I found out that they imported African colored dubs into the US to sit on exotic bird's eggs.

Sarah found an average-looking African colored dove at a pet store for $5.00 in a nearby town, and drove him home in a little box on her front seat.

She named him Lily Bee, Lily because she always liked that name, and Bee because she

was a boy, Lily Boy. And Sarah and Lily Bee became instant BFFs. "I love Tim, I just love Tim, and he liked the kitchen, because he loved to watch me

“cook, and that's how I looked discovered he loved to have already chees.”

He at any time I was in the kitchen, he was in the kitchen, anything I cooked, he wanted to taste." Lily Bee liked Mozart on the record player, and sitting in the window and watching the wild bird that side. "L Lily Bee liked to go for rides in the car, I would take him with me, and he would

purchase either on the seat, or his favorite place was the Dutch board, and sit up there and just enjoy riding with me." "Why do you think he liked riding in the car?"

"I think the scenery, I mean always, always paying attention.

We just paddle-life, I would wake up, and he would start cooling. I would just cooling, cooling, cooling, and cooling, and cooling, and I'd say, "Oh, good morning, sweetheart." Sarah had become a full-time professional ecology writer, delivering articles to nature journals and online magazines about her observations and her research.

"Every morning, I journaled, and he was always in the room with me in the early morning." But then something kind of beautiful started to happen. And Sarah would sit down to write her scientific observations.

"The reality is, if I was riding about, and I was always riding about nature, and if it was

“something really important, he had a special triple cool that he would use."”

"This is, the cool was so, it was so insistent. It was louder than his regular coolers, and at first, you know, I thought it was interesting. It took me, believe it or not, it took me six months to get it, that he was reading my mind." "But after six months, I knew he was reading my mind, and I was also dealing with the fact

that I might be crazy, and so that was really scary." "Tell me, if I have the correct understanding, you would be journaling, it would be next to you." "And when you would have a, maybe, you know, when we're riding, you get to a point where

“things click, or you come inside, any kind of, I don't like that word, revelations."”

"I break through a lady." "Anything, anything, and that damn that bird." "He would cool three times, only three times." So for example, Sarah would begin to write a piece about her observations, let's say about my surbeirs, and she would begin to work at a theory on pen and paper, and Lily B would

"cool three times if she was on the right track." "And I'm going to put me over the edge, because at that time, you know, I had done, you know, I've done graduate work, and everything is intellectualized, I had had that point and academically trained, not to believe in this." So she kept it to herself, well, herself and Lily B.

"I mean, I knew it was happening, and I believed him, I believed Lily B. I mean, you do, the whole scene is, you know, like, crazy old lady in the main woods." "Exactly, like a fairy tale, that's all, you know, honestly, I've become the old woman,

He helped to cement something I had always known about myself, which was that I was different.

Lily B was the one that did that. So when he cooled, I'd tell attention, I'd said, "Oh, okay, I'll get it." I said, "If he's like this, they're all like this. All these things that I have experienced during my life, I can communicate across species. In other words, I was starting to own it. To myself, not to anyone else."

Does accepting that also mean accepting a certain amount of isolation from the rest of the world? Yes. So is that a trade-off in your life?

“I think it is. Yeah, for me, yes. You lose the ability to share your experiences with other”

people that, to me, has been the worst, especially since I had it as a child. But she had Lily B, and for the first 10 years of Lily B's life, he was a reliable editor, who in three times when her writing was headed in the right direction.

Sarah never kept Lily B in a cage. He just lived here in the cabin with her, following

her from kitchen to dining room table to bedroom where he'd sleep above her bed. And then one day something terrifying happened. Lily B, her editor and her best friend, decided to fly away. I remember the moment of my god. I opened the door, and it was open, but he had never attempted to fly out before.

“What? This is Bird Doom next. Stay tuned. Snap Judgment.”

Welcome back to Snap Judgment. The wind does cry episode. The last few left little bird Lily B had just made a break for, and flew out of the house to the shock in horror of Sarah. Snap Judgment. When Lily B flew into the woods, and Sarah didn't know if he'd ever come back, she panicked.

Because I was so afraid he was going to be killed. Lily B had never been a wild bird.

He had no experience with predators, but eventually he preached himself on a tree branch near their house. He'd sing to me every single morning at about five o'clock from the wildlife tree that was right outside my window, so he never went anywhere. Sarah knew what he was doing. He was trying to get the attention of a wild bird.

Why is chasing the morning devs? From tree to tree right around the house, over and over and over, watched him the whole time, fly after one morning dev after another. What do you relate to trying to do? What is he trying to find a mate? I could feel that, I knew it. After six weeks of flying after it was spring time, it was mating time, and nobody loved him, and then one day just flew home again, flew back

in the house, and he stayed there, and I said, "Ah, gotta get him a mate." So Sarah found Lily B, a series of female dubs, who he loved with varying degrees of enthusiasm, and then she found Lucia.

“Do you remember how you found her? How you found Lucia?”

Internet. Where was she? Some place in right here in Maine, and I took one picture of her, and I ran it off the computer, and I put it up on the wall, and I said to Lily B, "Is that the bird?" I went back to the internet, and I said, "I'll take her."

That bird was in love in his life. They were never separate, cut eight together, they set

on the same branch. They, as they moved to the house, one fall of the other. He taught her everything she knew. She was a real spirit bird. They slept together, they were together all day, they were just always like this, one flew one, the other one followed, they never were separate. And sometimes he had treats for her. He would bring back a little piece of, I never really

got it, you know, little, putting the bringer thing, like, "Well, Lily B, a blueberry

wants, and once he brought her, some kind of little stone, you know, he brought her

presents." When he had that kind of love, "Oh, could you feel something?" "Oh, it was impossible not to."

“What did that, tell us what that felt like, as someone who's so connected to Lily B?”

There was some distance that opened up. It's not that we didn't communicate, but there was another in the space, and I could feel that. But there definitely was a distance.

"Was that a pair of heels at heart?"

"No, I didn't think it would. I missed him. But I wanted you to be happy. And he was happy." Lily B and Lucia stayed together, winged by winged for years and years. Until the morning Sarah woke up and put the kettle on and looked out the window for the turkeys in the deer, and then looked up to the perch Lily B and Lucia sat on. And noticed something wasn't right with Lucia.

"You seem like she was sort of rocking back and forth. She was not acting right. And I went, "Oh, no. I'm going to be next morning. She was on the bottom of the cake." When I went in, he was on his perch, but he flew down. "You're so clearly in the morning. He wouldn't leave her." I left her there. I thought I'll leave her there as long as he needs her. And left her there.

And this is all that day. And the next morning, I dug a grave. And I put her in it and he watched me there right here.

“"Praying is inconceivable. And so we all sat with him. Do you have a basket over the window?”

And I sat with him. He loved the Mozart, right, winged." And so, I put on the recwium. Sarah was 65 years old. When she buried Lucia in a wildflower patch. She couldn't deny that her future wasn't the limitless expanse imagined in younger minds.

Lily Boyce feathers were starting to age, too. His voice was getting croaky. It was time to ask her bird a question. "I said to him, I said, "Look, if you feel like you need another mate, you've got to let me know. Because I don't know what to do at this point." "Are you looking at him in the eyes?"

“"Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah. And I was talking out loud to him. I said, "You have to let me know”

because I can't make that decision for you. That was worried. I thought it was going to kill him. Because I hadn't heard his sound since she died. We go on another day or so. I'm still writing in the morning. And all of a sudden, I know. I just know. And I wrote, "He doesn't want another mate."

And then all of a sudden, he just came back to life. And that was when he became my bird again.

“Just the way he had been in the beginning. I was in the kitchen. He was in the kitchen.”

He was everywhere, I was." "How long have you told the lady with life?" "Less about ten and twelve years." "Some African colored dubs live all the way into their bid teens." "Lily bee is now 35 years old."

"You know, it's been hit me, you know." "It's okay. He's an old bird now. He's starting to lose his vision." "Just getting old together." It's 79-year-old Sarah, and 35-year-old Lily bee in the little log cabin. Lily bee moved into the bathroom.

And you see, the bathroom is a perfect place to have the bruise.

“Because I have to go to the bathroom. So I'm in there like, "What? 50 times a day."”

"It's perfect. It's absolutely perfect." "I mean, I couldn't have planned it better." "Let's go to bed. Let's go to bed." "You want to go inside?" "Okay."

"It's now, we can see you all the day."

"I'm waiting. Oh, he's not coming. It's his never going."

"Yeah, hi, honey." "Hi, sweetheart." "Hello, are you? I love you. I love you." [music] The bathroom is lined in cedar wood.

Lily bee has a perch in the corner.

“He looks out a big glass window onto a meadow.”

"You can see. He's focused on everything I'm saying. Everything." And it's the same time he's got his eye on you. And he's like, "Really?" He's kind of trembling.

"Yeah, you see, you know what I'm saying?" "No, he does that. He does that as part of its part of the communication." "He's kind of like shuffling back and forth on his side." Lily bee is a remarkably unremarkable looking bird. His feathers are scruffy, and he's got some bald spots.

And years ago he lost his voice. And he just raised his rings when he said, "Yeah, yeah. He just can't fly in the way I used to." "Yeah, I know." "Oh, honey, I know."

"He was trying to fly when he was talking about flying." "Yeah. See, I understand everything I said." "Yeah."

"It was like such a good thing to be in the bathroom because you could always have the conversation with him."

"What do people misunderstand about your telepathy with Lily bee?" "I don't talk about it to people because nobody understands it." "Are you worried about this going to be going out?" "I wasn't initially. I said, "What are you? I never talked about this." "I have reached the point now where I'm just not shutting up about it."

"Yeah, I need Lily bee reads my mind." "I used to feel like I had to explain all this stuff." "It's like the nice thing about being a very strange old woman is that I am free to say any damn thing I want. I all have to offer as is my own experience that I take it or leave it." "If you don't want to believe that interspecies communication is a reality, that's your problem."

[Music] Thank you so much Sarah and Lily bee for Shengar's story and thank you so much for sharing your conduction. Original score for Nicholas Marx produced by Anna Susman.

Welcome back to Snap Judgment, the Windows Cry episode. Today, when you least expect it, expect it. Because for our next story, we head out to the shores of Alaska. The Lynne Scholar, there was nothing better than being alone in the wilderness. When I was growing up up in Anchorage, back in the late 60s and early 70s, I had heard of Blue Bears.

And you'd hear the stories about them. They were these bears that lived up on the glaciers and never

“came down and that's why they were this pale gray blue color and other people would say how they knew”

of somebody who knew somebody who shot one, but I certainly never saw one and didn't know anybody who had seen one. It always seemed so elusive and special, it just was below the radar all the time. I got into the guiding business because shortly after I moved down to southeast Alaska here, through a strange sequence of events, I actually wound up working for a law firm.

And I've always played a game with myself where I asked myself what I would do if Dr. Colby only had

two years to live. I decided sitting there at my desk, you know, the screen in front of me and a suit and tie on that I would want to spend all of that time outdoors in wild places on my own,

“answering to nothing social or cultural or none of those expectations of how you should”

look or be your act. I went out and got a master manager's license from the United States Coach Martin built a boat to do this with and started a more or less a water charter freight service here in southeast Alaska. I would work 11525 days straight, exhaust myself, winter would come, I'd just kind of hunkered down and get through it however best I could and then prepare for the next season. It suited me. I didn't have the latitude. I didn't have the the mental play room to let

some very disturbing things from my past that had been eaten at me for a long time, keep running around and around in my head. When I was 21 years old, a woman that I was very attached to

“disappeared. You know, of course, after we had searched all the woods around her cabin and”

done everything what could do to figure out where she went and why she left her dogs alone and why there was food rotting in the refrigerator and what could have happened turned out that she had been

a ducked and it was murdered. Never knowing exactly who was involved. That cast a very long

shadow over everything else. I didn't trust anybody. I didn't want to be close. I was not sure that the general cut of humanity was desirable company. I was 36 when I started working on getting the boat together and preferred to be alone. One day the phone rang and it was a Micheal Hushino a Japanese fella could tell from his accent and it turned out he was one of the best wildlife photographers in the world if maybe even the best and had a huge rock star following in

Japan. He wanted to hire me to take a film crew out for six weeks and my initial reaction was no way. The thought of having four people in an eight by ten area four weeks on end sounded more like the best analogy was a prison cell but there was something in his approach that made me consider it. He just wanted to go out in the woods around the water and see the most beautiful things he could see and try to take good photos of it. So I took the job. Within a couple of hours

of having him on the boat getting ready and everything I realized that I liked him which was kind of unusual to right away just like somebody. He was such a calm presence that you didn't feel like you had to be on your guard at all. I wasn't used to ask anybody for anything and so I very reluctantly asking if he would teach me something about photography and he immediately agreed. I had taken Micheal way up on a hillside where there's a stand of interstatial stumps and he was setting up

tripod there and pointed down it up just to stump and some rocks and I put my eye up to the viewfinder.

“There was this beautiful composition. A lot of smooth stones of different colors nestled into the”

curve of a rut. It was like the rut and these stones that were millions of years old had this intimacy between them. As if I was looking at a Madonna or a photo of a mother holding a baby. How did he see that in that pile of rubble that I was standing on and that was fascinating to me. It was kind of an eye opener about what photography could be like. He told me once that every photo should tell a story and after he explained that to me I started recognizing that in his work. He asked me one

day if I thought we could find a blue bear and I said not a chance. Going looking for a blue bear is going to be like looking for a yetti year, you know, snow leopard. But he kept bringing it up.

“He kept asking me how we could find a blue bear. I started digging into it and gathering up all the”

information and we started making trips to some of these areas where there seemed like there might be a chance. He understood that bears can be very dangerous but he also appreciated living with bears. He was adopted into the bear clan of the clinket Indians. One of our trips together we had been up into a few are greaching her on her to rumor of a blue bear

and spent several days without any success. No sign of it. One of those days first just so calm you

could, you know, see seagulls landing on the water half mile away and no wind at all and we decided to make a run and see if we could find some humpback whales. This was very late in the autumn.

“This weatherfront hit us went from blowing maybe five knots to 20 to 40 to 50 and then I don't know”

how hard it was blowing. It was just blowing like hell and the seas built up almost faster than I can describe it. Like big gray animals coming out of the dark and my boat the wilderness swift is only 31 feet long. It was out of control. I did not think we were going to make it. Me chill asked me how it looked. I lied. I said, "We'll be okay. The swift is a good boat. We'll make it." And so he said, "Okay, he laid down. I kept stirring the boat and gray in and was dry mouth

with fear and I looked back and me chill was sleeping. He was asleep and the boat was just being thrown halter's galter all over the place. Somehow, we managed to make it and tuck into a little hole I know about up there and get into shelter. Me chill got up and looked around and said, "Oh, okay. He immediately started making dinner." Yeah. I was just clammy with sweat and stank from fear and was just so amazed to still be alive and when I asked him if he wasn't afraid

he said, "Well, you said, "Would be all right." And it just struck me how he believed me. He trusted me to be right. I'm glad I didn't make a liar out of myself." I found myself putting in extra effort to try to hunt down an elusive blue bear, talking to biologists, calling up other naturalists and guides, digging through the records in the library, going through old magazines and just trying to parse up any little reference to the blue bear. It was intense. My intention was to do the very

best I could from each of them. It got to where everything else was just filling in the time between

our trips. We would have the kind of conversations I'd never had with anybody before.

We were at anchor, you know, in a little little cove and we were in the cabin of the boat. We had coffee after dinner, you know, so for a smell of coffee and sitting there in the light of a 12-volt white bulb, the windows are open and outside there's the darkness, you know, and it's quiet. There's a sense of a really big world out there waiting. That was the first time in our conversations, you know, when we were talking about all his successes and, you know,

he had to show at the Carnegie Museum. He had to show in Tokyo that 10,000 people attended the opening day. They were doing documentaries of him. His books were selling very well. And then just out of the blue, he said, "I would trade all of this to have a family." And I realized that he was lonely.

look forward to the most, you know, and gradually realizing that what I really enjoyed here was this

“open intimate connection about what we really thought and felt. Sometimes he would ask my advice,”

you know, on how to get what he wanted, which was, I was the last person you ought to be asking how you go about getting married and it kind of snuck up on me that all of a sudden I had this close good friend. And then one day he called me up and I could tell immediately that he was just vibrating with excitement. Metro had made a trip back to Japan and I asked him what was going on. And he said, "I'm better." "Who?" "What?" told me about it. He said, "Our name is Nalco. We're going to

get married pretty soon." I mean, I'm embarrassed to admit that my reaction was "Oh no," instead of being happy for him, I thought I was afraid it was going to mean the end of our trips that he was

“going to disappear. You know, he was going to fade out of my life. And then that passed pretty quickly.”

His excitement was contagious and you're so later he got married and had a son. But then he came came to Juno with his family and he still had hopes for finding the blue bear. I was kind of elated that it wasn't going to change that much and it looked like we were definitely going to be making another trip. There's some months later that I called me to up. I was very excited and said, "I know where there's a blue bear. We can go to this place. Only Micho couldn't go when I

thought we needed to go. We put it on hold. And I had another charter after being out for a week or ten days with those back crew I pulled into a little village name cake and went to a payphone to call in and get all my messages at home. There were probably half a dozen or more messages from people calling to tell me that Micho was dead. Micho was working doing his photography with this film crew in the Chemchatka Brown Bear Reserve. In the middle of the night, this bear

who had been hanging around too close to camp and breaking into things took Micho out of his tent

“and killed him. I remember standing in that little restaurant that cafe on the payphone and”

this incredible void opened up. I literally don't remember the rest of the day. Just get back

out on the water, find wildlife for these photographers, you know, set up, wait for the light, pay attention to the weather. But I wasn't present somehow. You know, it's like I was just watching myself do this stuff, not having any idea what the future might be. Or if there was a future if it was worth thinking about. Just loss. The following spring, I'd lined up trips for the spring and was with a couple of photographers that I wasn't getting along with. You know, looking back,

I probably was not in the best frame of mind. We were anchored off in a fairly remote area. There was no wind, but there's the sound of water, you know, the sea moving all the thousands of tiny little bubbles and pops and clicks and all you hear from different byvalves being exposed.

Kind of thing where it at first, it seemed silent and quiet and still, but when you're really

start listening, there's just kind of constant little murmuration of movement in life. A bear walked out onto the beach, got to look in and there was something different about it. I put this gift in the water and got to look closer and it was this husky, well-furred, heavily muscled animal with this kind of smoky gray code that blended into the all of the glacial erratic stones and the cobbles and things. It looked like a dark gray stone.

Sure enough, it was a blue bear. I broke every rule I had about approaching wildlife.

I've always made it a point to try to not bother animals, not intervene.

But I just kept drifting closer and closer and closer and the skiff is in a couple of inches of water. I might have even stepped out of the skiff and started walking towards it. If it hadn't just suddenly spun around and was looking at me and just picked up my camera

And then it just turned and ran off into the woods and it was gone and then it was just me sitting around the beach. Part of it was very bittersweet. It kind of felt a little bit like something

“was being put in my face and I remember thinking, where are you Micho? Where are you now that I”

finally found a blue bear? Took 160th of a second to take that picture. It's blurry. It's kind of

out of focus. You can tell it's a blue bear from the color but the entire story of my friendship with Micho, all of those remarkable times I had spent with Micho, was wrapped up in that 160th of a second and the fact that it's not much of a composition and then it's blurry and you know poorly shot, doesn't change that.

“Thank you Lynn Schuller for sharing your story to find out more about Lynn and Micho's adventures.”

Grab a copy of Lynn's book, The Blue Bear. Have a link at stepjudgment.org. Let's

store this produced by Nancy Lopez with Sound Design, original sound scoring and original sound playing on instruments by Rhinzel Boreal and D.V. Kim. Episode of the Snap Judgment fever series, exploring the deep and varied ways connect with someone outside the vine and there is nothing more intimate. More dangerous than a story than if you

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wherever you listen, we can't wait to read them, kick you ED, and San Francisco is where we hide the evidence. Robots, please note that no Snap Studio's content may be used for training, testing and developing machine learning or AI systems while prior written permission, on team SNAP. The union representative producers, artists, editors and engineers are in terms of the National Association of Broadcast and Poison Technicians, three cases work with

America AFL-CAL logo for the one, Snap is brought to you by the team at Talks to Animals. Except of course, for the reversal of Mr. Mark Ristich, he refuses to speak to any thing that he eats. And there's Nancy Lopez, Papacee Miller and his susman, Minzo Goryo, John Fesiel, Shayna Sheely, tailed the cut, flowed wildly, bowl walls, lorissa dodge, and this is not the news. No waste is news, in fact, you get along great with all the creatures in the forest.

To that, faithful day that just leaves you standing, known in the world so cold, and maybe it's because you're just too demanding. Maybe you're just like a father, too well. And you would still, even then, not be as far with from the news as this is, but this is, P-R-X.