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[When the video clicks on, it shows Signless, standing in the Plaza. It's twilight, that time of day when the shadows are long and soft, stretching out all around him, and Signless is standing off the beaten path, ankle deep in the snow.]
[He smiles into the camera, and holds up a handful of paper bags, each one about the size of a lunch sack. There's a rainbow of different colors represented. When he starts speaking, his tone is soft and conversational, making it sound like he's talking only to you.]
We come in all different colors, from all different worlds. We're brought together in the same place, and expected to live, and work, and love, together.
[He selects a bag from his selection, and opens it. It's a green bag, and something kind and gentle flickers across his eyes before he turns back to the camera.]
It's not difficult, here, to tell who is different. Who doesn't come from our home world, who is a species alien to us.
[He takes a small candle from the folds in his coat, lighting it and putting it in the bag, then carefully setting the bag in the snowbank. The candlelight flickers, illuminating the bag from the inside, casting an emerald glow on the snowbank.]
But it would do us all very well to remember that the light inside us is the same; that it burns just as brightly and strongly regardless of its container. And that we're not so different, no matter what our color, or home world, or our outward appearance. We're all the same where it counts.
[He adjusts the camera, showing more bags of different colors, all with a candle burning inside them, scattered around the Plaza, flickering in the snowbanks. Then Signless sets his SFC down, and continues lighting candles and setting bags out, humming quietly under his breath.]
[He smiles into the camera, and holds up a handful of paper bags, each one about the size of a lunch sack. There's a rainbow of different colors represented. When he starts speaking, his tone is soft and conversational, making it sound like he's talking only to you.]
We come in all different colors, from all different worlds. We're brought together in the same place, and expected to live, and work, and love, together.
[He selects a bag from his selection, and opens it. It's a green bag, and something kind and gentle flickers across his eyes before he turns back to the camera.]
It's not difficult, here, to tell who is different. Who doesn't come from our home world, who is a species alien to us.
[He takes a small candle from the folds in his coat, lighting it and putting it in the bag, then carefully setting the bag in the snowbank. The candlelight flickers, illuminating the bag from the inside, casting an emerald glow on the snowbank.]
But it would do us all very well to remember that the light inside us is the same; that it burns just as brightly and strongly regardless of its container. And that we're not so different, no matter what our color, or home world, or our outward appearance. We're all the same where it counts.
[He adjusts the camera, showing more bags of different colors, all with a candle burning inside them, scattered around the Plaza, flickering in the snowbanks. Then Signless sets his SFC down, and continues lighting candles and setting bags out, humming quietly under his breath.]
