But I am an epigrapher by specialization and passion.Epigraphy is the art of decoding inscriptions. Epigraphy doesn't concern itself with the meaning ...of those inscriptions; that's a job for historians or scholars of literature. Still, with all human languages you can't separate syntax from semantics. The disciplines and specializations are artificial boundaries; to translate a culture's writing one must understand something about the culture.I call it an art, because while many scientific. ‘And where am I?’ Athena asked, looking around. ‘In my dorm, in the real world.’ Zeke said, reaching for the blanket again. He pulled it around her shoulders and she flinched slightly. ‘It’s strange. What is this thatis all over me? I don’t understand…’ Athena said, rubbing her hands uncertainly over her arms, ‘This sensation…It is…feeling…’ ‘You don’t know what it’s like to feel?’ Zeke said, raising an eyebrow, ‘Of course! I never programmed physical feelings for you. Warmth, cold, pain,. “So, what happened after you found the cave?”...........I woke a little cold and stiff, my ribs ached, it took some seconds to remember where I was. The sun was at an angle that only shone a little light into the cave but I thought that in an hour or so, it might light a lot more of the interior. I drank and ate from my supplies, peering into the gloom, straining my eyes in an attempt to identify the shapes that were becoming vaguely visible.Carefully, I stooped through the opening, standing. "Man," the driver mumbled to himself, "How can they sleep through all that's happening? They must have a ton of willpower."The driver took I-5 straight through to the I-405 turnoff. He drove fast as conditions permitted and made good time on both freeways. Mark jerked wide awake when the limousine slowed to turn off onto the Wilshire Boulevard exit and cruised unerringly toward Rodeo. The driver looked in the rear mirror and asked, "Here's Rodeo Drive. Where do you want to stop?" Amanda? Where.