Art is a craft that lasts an age. As if we create hence opening a page to something that only fades by intention. It is literally the invention of history. As whatever is crafted is drafted to the quarters of a variety of arts. From romantic descriptives of the stars, or pictographs which show life so simple through signs and symbols. History rekindles by Art. Adding context to people who otherwise would never be recognised for their smarts, or then the set of their hearts. For when recording the past we cast a picture, from the etches of beautiful architecture to the great slumber of a sphinx. A form of holiness in a divine piece, as it treats those who honour it with innate peace. A moment of history broken off and preserved, if only we were present to have heard the constructions of the creative verb.