Professional Documents
Culture Documents
1.1. History of Scripting and The Screenplay PDF
1.1. History of Scripting and The Screenplay PDF
1.1.1. Overview.
In his Screenwriting: History, Theory and Practice, Steven Maras dispels several of the
popular myths perpetrated in the above quote, for instance, (1) the myth of a direct
evolutionary relationship between the screenplay, the continuity, and the scenario and
the interchangeability of those descriptors, (2) the myth that the terms scenario and
continuity were themselves easily defined in the era in which they were used, and lastly,
(3) the sensational myth of the “Shoot as written” rubber stamp.2 Mehring even gets it
wrong when she suggests that spoken words appear in the text only after the introduction
of synchronized sound into film production, contradicting Janet Staiger’s testimony that
the early scenarios contained “a scene-by-scene account of the action including
intertitles and inserts.”3 Kevin Alexander Boon concurs with Staiger, when he writes that
“dialogue was present in the continuity prior to sound, in the form of titles.”4
We cannot scold Mehring too harshly for her errors. The history of the screenplay is
notoriously difficult to trace, due both to a problem of language (the word “screenplay”
itself does not come into common usage until the 1940s) and to the fact that its earliest
antecedents are private industrial documents, many of which have been lost to time. We
will not attempt a comprehensive history of scripting — the process of writing for the
screen — on this page. We mean only to outline a brief survey of that process’s
development into the stable form recognizable to us today as the screenplay.
Page Topics:
● 1.1.1. Overview.
● 1.1.2. Antecedents
● 1.1.3. Alternative Forms
● 1.1.4. Sound and the Script
● 1.1.5. Standardization
● 1.1.6. Terminology
● 1.1.7. Discussion Topics
● 1.1.8. Footnotes
If we cannot trace a direct lineage for the screenplay, we can survey a history of scripting
practices. Motion pictures began as novelty, not narrative, but even some of the earliest
filmmakers found scripting practices useful in the conception of their products. These
early “scripts” were little more than brief synopses. “From 1896 to 1901,” writes Isabelle
Raynauld, “scenarios were written in synopsis form and rarely were longer than one
paragraph. Many, in fact, were even shorter: they included a title and a one-line
description of the action to be seen.”5 She goes on to note how these early protoscripts
also served a marketing function:
Excerpts from the Edison Studios catalog offer examples of such synopses, such as
1897’s “Pillow Fight” (“Four young ladies, in their nightgowns, are having a romp. One of
the pillows gets torn, and the feathers fly all over the room.”)7 and the decidedly more
racist “A Morning Bath” (“Mammy is washing her little pickaninny. She thrusts him,
kicking and struggling, into a tub full of foaming suds.”)8, the original text of which is
censored in the Library of Congress’s online archive.9
After 1901, as films grew in length and narrative concerns grew more prominent, the
importance of scripting as a conceptual tool increased. Out of this need for narrative
coherence, the scenario proper was born. “The film script was born,” observes Béla
Balázs, “when the film had already developed into an independent new art and it was no
longer possible to improvise its new subtle visual effects in front of the camera; these had
to be planned carefully in advance.”10
In his Script Culture and the American Screenplay, Kevin Alexander Boon draws from
several early scenario examples, including Georges Melies’s A Trip to the Moon and
Edwin S. Porter’s The Great Train Robbery, to demonstrate the rapid development of
scripting practices at the turn of the century. “Early predecessors of the screenplay did
little more than frame the narrative context for a scene,” writes Boon. “One of the first
major infusions of story into filmmaking was Georges Melies’s A Trip to the Moon (Le
voyage dans la lune, 1902), which [. . .] involved a great deal of preparation from Melies.
One part of this preparation was the writing of a sparse scenario [. . .]”11 The complete
text of the Melies scenario follows:12
“The first scripts were in fact mere technical aids,” writes Balázs, “nothing but lists of the
scenes and shots for the convenience of the director. They merely indicated what was to
be in the picture, and in what order, but said nothing about how it was to be presented.”13
Melies’ primitive list fits this description, bearing little resemblance to the contemporary
screenplay form, but it succeeds in clearly ordering the narrative discourse of the motion
picture.
By 1903, Scott Marble’s scenario for Edwin S. Porter’s The Great Train Robbery already
exhibits elements of what will come to be known as the Master Scene Format, only
without dialogue.14 Here is Marble’s scenario reprinted in its entirety:
Two masked robbers enter and compel the operator to get the
"signal block" to stop the approaching train, and make him
write a fictitious order to the engineer to take water at
this station, instead of "Red Lodge," the regular watering
stop. The train comes to a standstill (seen through window
of office); the conductor comes to the window, and the
frightened operator delivers the order while the bandits
crouch out of sight, at the same time keeping him covered
with their revolvers. As soon as the conductor leaves, they
fall upon the operator, bind and gag him, and hastily depart
to catch the moving train.
The bandits are hiding behind the tank as the train, under
the false order, stops to take water. Just before she pulls
out they stealthily board the train between the express car
and the tender.
7 LOCOMOTIVE.
8 THE ROBBERS
12 RUGGED HILL
14 BARNES
Here scene headings begin to emerge, along with detailed scene text that explicates the
action. As with contemporary screenplays, Marble’s scenario is divided into master
scenes, not individual shots. This itself should not be viewed as a formatting decision,
however, as motion pictures had yet to innovate the language of cutting within the scene
to multiple shots. Indeed, “scene 14” in The Great Train Robbery — the closeup of
Barnes — was a sensational experiment in its time. It would be years before filmmakers
began to routinely cut within a scene to closeups and other angles.
While the scenario format proved adequate in scripting for narrative coherence, the
development of a new film grammar of cutting to multiple shots within a single scene
provoked the need for a different scripting practice that addressed a more complex
problem: visual coherence. “A major identifying difference between the scenario script
and the continuity script,” observes Maras, “is that in the former, scenes are listed as
‘scenes’, whereas in the latter a ‘scene’ consists of a number of shots, each of which are
listed in the script.”15
Industrial changes also preceded the shift between scripting practices. In the first 18
years of film production, directors and cameramen were given varying degrees of
independence to shoot their pictures in the manner they preferred. As demand for
multiple reel pictures increased, however, production companies grew in size and the
cost of production became more expensive. With increased capital investment came the
need for a new Central Producer System of production management that shifted
authority away from directors to powerful studio executives.
Janet Staiger outlines how the incorporation of Frederick Winslow Taylor’s scientific
management theories led to a detailed division of labor and the need for a Central
Producer to approve all scripts. “It was cheaper,” writes Staiger, “to pay a few workers to
prepare scripts and solve continuity problems at that stage than it was to let a whole crew
of laborers work it out on the set or by retakes later. Because the scripts provided the
means to ensure the conventions of continuous action, they soon became known as
‘continuities.'”16 These documents made it possible for the Central Producer to predict
and approve a detailed budget for each production.
According to Staiger, the continuity had become more or less standard practice by 1914,
and according to Marc Norman, this standard “evolved from multiple sources but mostly
from Thomas Ince.”17 Boon also credits Ince:
Ince, according to Norman, “invented the movie studio.”19 Establishing his Inceville studio
on an 18,000 acre ranch in California, Ince applied classical management theory and
“assembly-line techniques, perfected by manufacturing giants like Henry Ford” to the
making of motion pictures. In this context, the conventions of writing for the screen
solidified. “In fact,” Norman observes, “the key to Ince’s method was the screenplay itself,
under him no longer simply a one-page precis of the film’s narrative but the blueprint for
the entire production.” What follows is a continuity excerpt from Satan McAllister’s Heir,
written by C. Gardner Sullivan and Thomas H. Ince in 1914:20
"I AIN'T WHAT YOU MIGHT CALL A SOCIABLE CUSS AND I AIN'T
ENCOURAGIN' NEIGHBORS."
She has filled her canteen and is leaning over drinking from
the creek -- Rags is fussing about her and she cups her hands
and fills them with water that he may drink -- see if he won't
drink -- make a cute scene of it --
"WHEN THEY DON'T TAKE THE HINT AND MOVE ON, I ANNOY THEM
PLUM SCANDALOUS"
Norman repeats the myth that Ince stamped his scripts, “Produce exactly as written,”21
something Maras argues “has not been supported by the evidence.”22 Nevertheless, the
shot-by-shot detail of Ince’s continuity, along with specific instructions for the filmmaker
such as, “make a cute scene of it,” do suggest a blueprint role for the text, with
production reduced to its execution.
Staiger notes that Ince’s continuities were not merely scripts but, in fact, complex
packages comprised of multiple production documents:
The cast of characters follows. The typed portions list the roles
for the story and penciled in are the names of the people
assigned to play each part.
It is worth mentioning that while Ince was elevating the importance of the script, D. W.
Griffith was shooting The Birth of a Nation without one. The Hollywood industrial system
had embraced the written text as an important guiding force in the production of
entertainment properties, but one of early cinema’s most important and innovative artists
saw no need for one. The process of scripting for the screen did not so much emerge
naturally from other literary forms such as the play script, the novel, or poetry nor to meet
the artistic needs of filmmakers but developed primarily to address the manufacturing
needs of industrial production.
Scripting processes developed outside of the U.S. as well, but we know little about them.
One famous Austrian-born screenwriter, however, had his work produced in America,
providing an exceptional counter-example to Ince’s continuity format.
Carl Mayer co-wrote the flagship film of the German Expressionist movement, 1920’s
The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, but he is best known for his work in Kammerspielfilm with
director F. W. Murnau, most notably 1924’s The Last Laugh, which earned the director
his ticket to Hollywood.
The script for Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans survives to this day, and it is unlike any
script ever written in Hollywood. It follows a two-column format, with transitions,
slug-lines, and titles on the left, and scene text on the right.
(1)
Vacation trains.
ust leave.
raveling public.
rches.
oad station.
eople.
5
Mayer’s prose has more in common with a William Carlos Williams poem than an Ince
continuity. As Jean-Pierre Geuens has noted, “What is radical about Mayer’s approach is
that he somehow found a form that reads like poetry while simultaneously suggesting
specific actions. In his hands, the screenplay truly became a magnificent instrument.”26 It
is perhaps unfortunate that Mayer never made it to Hollywood. It is impossible to imagine
what impact his approach to screenwriting might have had on the history of the
screenplay had it become widely accepted.
Two men begin beating big gong, those on wall yelling and
beating drums.
CHIEF
Kara Ta ni, Kong. O Taro Vey, Rama
Kong.
(We call thee, Kong. O Mighty
One, Great Kong.)
Wa saba ani mako, O Taro Vey, Rama
Kong.
(The bride is here, O Mighty
One, Great Kong.)
CUT TO exterior wall set, Kong turns from Altar with Ann in
his hand and walks toward camera. Crowd on wall in uproar
gong, drums, yelling, waving torches.
KONG walks away from camera and into jungle, turning to look
back, so Ann is seen in his hand.
DRISCOLL
He's got Ann! Who's coming with me?
In this passage from Kong, direct instructions to the crew about projections and
miniatures are more sophisticated than Ince’s instruction to “make a cute scene of it,” but
in substance, they are the same: a writer guiding execution from the page. The script
exists as a technical document, not an artistic one. Nevertheless, scripting became more
important in the sound era. According to Béla Balázs:
Geuens observes that in the early days of the talkie, an over-reliance on dialogue
resulted in new scripting problems. Dialogue specialists were often imported from the
New York theater world, and the dialogue began to crowd out scene text on the page.
Complicating matters were the limiting technical requirements of synchronized sound
recording: “actors should remain at a constant distance from a hidden microphone, they
should speak one at a time, they should never turn away from the microphone, etc.
Confronted with such limitations, directors clearly had their hands full, but the writers
were now entirely out of the loop. Should spoken scenes still be broken down into shots
or left to run all the way?”26
Cinematic language took a backward step as stories were once again told in master
shots, and the screenplay form followed suit. This situation is famously lampooned in
1952’s Singin’ in the Rain. Nevertheless, as filmmakers adapted to the sound era, both
the scripting and recording of talkies became more nuanced. Before long, screenwriters
learned to thread their dialogue through the more detailed shot-by-shot format Ince had
perfected in the continuity, a format that would continue virtually unchanged for the next
thirty years. Even Casablanca, often heralded as the best screenplay ever written, is
formatted in the continuity style, suggesting that the form had reached its final
incarnation.
Something curious happens in the period between the collapse of the studio system and
the 1970s. The continuity script becomes the shooting script, in which shot-by-shot scene
writing is reserved for the director after a script has been greenlit for production, while the
master scene format emerges as the new standard for writers’ drafts.
The Apartment,co-written by the film’s director Billy Wilder with I.A.L. Diamond in 1959
and released in 1960, exhibits the master scene format:
MRS. LIEBERMAN
Good evening, Mr. Baxter.
BUD
Good evening, Mrs. Lieberman.
MRS. LIEBERMAN
Some weather we're having. Must be
from all the meshugass at Cape
Canaveral.
(she is half-way up
the steps)
You locked out of your apartment?
BUD
No, no. Just waiting for a friend.
Good night, Mrs. Lieberman.
MRS. LIEBERMAN
Good night, Mr. Baxter.
She and the Scottie disappear into the house. Bud resumes
pacing, his eyes on the apartment windows. Suddenly he stops --
the lights have gone out.
KIRKEBY
Come on -- come on, Sylvia!
Sylvia comes cha cha-ing out, wearing an imitation Persian
lamb coat, her hat askew on her head, bag, gloves, and an
umbrella in her hand.
SYLVIA
Some setup you got here. A real,
honest-to-goodness love nest.
KIRKEBY
Sssssh.
SYLVIA
(still cha cha-ing)
You're one button off, Mr. Kirkeby.
SYLVIA
You got to watch those things. Wives
are getting smarter all the time.
Take Mr. Bernheim -- in the Claims
Department -- came home one night
with lipstick on his shirt -- told
his wife he had a shrimp cocktail
for lunch -- so she took it out to
the lab and had it analyzed -- so
now she has the house in Great Neck
and the children and the new Jaguar --
KIRKEBY
Don't you ever stop talking?
No one seems to have established exactly when the shift toward the master scene
format took place or why. As early as 1952, Lewis Herman makes reference in his
Practical Manual of Screen Playwriting for Theater and Television Films to the
“master-scene script,” but his description makes clear that it is not the standard form,
writing: “Quite often, however, the writer may not even be permitted to write a shooting
script. Hey may be assigned to do a ‘master-scene’ script.”30 Defining this strange form,
he writes, “No camera angles have been indicated. Only a scene description, character
action, and the accompanying dialogue have been attended to.”31
Herman goes on to explain how the director turns the writer’s draft into a shooting script:
If the master scene format existed in 1952, it was not the predominant screenwriting
style. At some point it became standard, but when? In comparing 1963’s Charade to
1973’s Chinatown to demonstrate the shift from continuity style to master scene format,
Boon posits that “over time fewer technical terms were needed because the screenplay
became increasingly more literary and more able to shape visual imagery for readers.”33
Boon’s simplistic explanation ignores two radical shifts in film practice and discourse that
occur between 1950 and 1970. The first is the collapse of the studio system following the
1948 Supreme Court ruling in United States v. Paramount Pictures, and the second is
the rise of auteur theory and influence of the French New Wave on American filmmakers.
Concurrent with this industrial shift, the rise of auteur theory contributed to the
screenplay’s diminished authority over the execution of production. As first proposed,
auteur theory was a direct reaction against production as the mere execution of a
scripted blueprint, a notion sustained by the continuity style script. Taking camera
directions and specific shot-by-shot cutting instructions away from the writer and
preserving them for the director in the shooting script sends a powerful message that the
director, not the screenwriter, is the originator of cinematic language and thus the author
of the film. It is hard not to see the master scene format as a case of putting the writer in
his place.If the stature of the screenwriter has suffered, however, the quality of the
screenplay has not. If anything, the master scene format has liberated screenwriting from
its jargon-laden, technical prison. If the director’s shooting script has supplanted the
writer’s draft as blueprint, the writer’s draft has become something other — something
more literary. Boon is right when he observes in the shift from continuity style to master
scene format, “the establishment of the screenplay as a more autonomous literary
form.”35 This wasn’t the cause of the transition, however. It was the effect.
As early as 1916, the two-word designation “screen play” was used by the New York
Times to denote not a written text but the exhibited motion picture itself (i.e. a play
performed on a screen instead of a stage).38 This reference raises not only the
uncertainty of early critical terminology with regard to the new art of film but also a failure
to distinguish between its conception and execution. Early screen writers (more often
called “‘photoplaywright’, ‘photoplay writer’, ‘photoplay dramatist’ or
‘screen-playwright'”39) were seen by many as authoring the exhibited film itself. This also
raises issues of credit, but in the early era of film, credits were handled differently by
individual companies with no industry-wide standard before 1932.40
Another linguistic aspect of the terms “screenplay” and “screenwriting” (as opposed to
“scenario” and “scenario writing”) that Maras examines is an implication of a specialized
kind of writing. Where a scenario is a written story that will be filmed, a screenplay is a
play written in the language of the screen. To make this point, Maras quotes from a 1942
essay by screenwriter Dudley Nichols, in which he “links ‘screen-writing’ (in the
hyphenated form) to ‘the perfect screenplay.'”41 Nichols views the screenplay as “‘the
complete description of a motion picture and how to accomplish the thing described,'”
and the development of a language for this kind of writing marks the emergence of the
screenplay as a unique art form.
The following are suggested key terms and topics of discussion for college courses
studying this material.
Key Terms:
● Scripting
● Synopsis
● Scenario
● Continuity
● Central Producer System
● Thomas Ince
● Inceville
● “Shoot as written”
● Carl Mayer
● Master Scene Format
● Package-Unit System
● Auteur Theory
● Screen Play vs. Screenplay
Questions:
1. Mehring, Margaret. The Screenplay: A Blend of Film Form and Content. Boston:
Focal Press, 1990. Pg. 232. ↩
2. Maras, Steven. Screenwriting: History, Theory and Practice. NY: Wallflower, 2009.
Pgs. 40, 89-92. ↩
3. Maras, Steven. Screenwriting: History, Theory and Practice. NY: Wallflower, 2009.
Pg. 90. Emphasis mine. ↩
4. Boon, Kevin Alexander. Script Culture and the American Screenplay. Detroit:
Wayne State University Press, 2008. Pg. 15. ↩
5. Raynauld, Isabelle. “Screenwriting” in The Encyclopedia of Early Cinema. Edited
by Abel, Richard. NY: Routledge, 2005. Pgs. 834-838. ↩
6. Raynauld, Isabelle. “Screenwriting” in The Encyclopedia of Early Cinema. Edited
by Abel, Richard. NY: Routledge, 2005. Pgs. 834-838. ↩
7. Library of Congress Online:
http://memory.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/h?ammem/papr:@field%28NUMBER+@band
%28edmp+4055%29%29 ↩
8. IMDb entry: http://72.21.211.33/title/tt0203700/ ↩
9. Library of Congress Online:
http://memory.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/r?ammem/papr:@filreq%28@field%28NUMB
ER+@band%28edmp+4045%29%29+@field%28COLLID+edison%29%29 ↩
10. Balázs, Béla. Theory of the Film: Character and Growth of a New Art. NY: Dover,
1970. Pg. 247. ↩
11. Boon, Kevin Alexander. Script Culture and the American Screenplay. Detroit:
Wayne State University Press, 2008. Pg. 4. ↩
12. Multiple sources. Boon reprints his from Jacobs, Lewis. The Rise of the American
Film. NY: Harcourt Brace, 1939. Pgs. 27-28. Ours is reprinted from Tim Dirk’s
filmsite review of the film, accessed on 7 January 2011:
http://www.filmsite.org/voya.html. Dirk’s version differs only in minor detail from
Jacobs’. ↩
13. Balázs, Béla. Theory of the Film: Character and Growth of a New Art. NY: Dover,
1970. Pg. 248. ↩
14. Boon, Kevin Alexander. Script Culture and the American Screenplay. Detroit:
Wayne State University Press, 2008. Pgs.5-6. ↩
15. Maras, Steven. Screenwriting: History, Theory and Practice. NY: Wallflower, 2009.
Pg. 90. ↩
16. Bordwell, David, Staiger, Janet, and Thompson, Kristin. The Classical Hollywood
Cinema: Film Style & Mode of Production to 1960. NY: Columbia UP, 1985. Pg.
138. ↩
17. Norman, Marc. What Happens Next: A History of American Screenwriting. NY:
Three Rivers, 2007. Pg. 42. ↩
18. Boon, Kevin Alexander. Script Culture and the American Screenplay. Detroit:
Wayne State University Press, 2008. Pg. 3. ↩
19. Norman, Marc. What Happens Next: A History of American Screenwriting. NY:
Three Rivers, 2007. Pg. 44. ↩
20. Accessed on 9 January 2011 at
http://web.archive.org/web/20070820051629/www.geocities.com/kingrr/satan.html
↩
21. Norman, Marc. What Happens Next: A History of American Screenwriting. NY:
Three Rivers, 2007. Pg. 44. ↩
22. Maras, Steven. Screenwriting: History, Theory and Practice. NY: Wallflower, 2009.
Pgs. 40. ↩
23. Staiger, Janet. Cinema Journal. Vol. 18, No. 2, Economic and Technological
History (Spring, 1979), 16-25. ↩
24. Luft, Herbert G. “Notes on the World and Work of Carl Mayer.” The Quarterly of
Film Radio and Television, Vol. 8, No. 4 (Summer, 1954), pp. 375-392 ↩
25. Mayer, Carl. Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans. Photoplay. Twentieth Century Fox.
Pg. 1. ↩
26. Geuens, Jean-Pierre. Film Production Theory. Albany, NY: Suny, 2000. Pg.84. ↩
27. Rose, Ruth, and Creelman, James Ashmore. King Kong.Copyright © 1933, RKO
Pictures Inc. Accessed from American Film Scripts Online on 9 January 2011. ↩
28. Balázs, Béla. Theory of the Film: Character and Growth of a New Art. NY: Dover,
1970. Pg. 248-49. ↩
29. Geuens, Jean-Pierre. Film Production Theory. Albany, NY: Suny, 2000. Pg.84. ↩
30. Herman, Lewis. A Practical Manual of Screen Playwriting for Theater and
Television Films. Cleveland: World, 1952. Pg. 169. ↩
31. Herman, Lewis. A Practical Manual of Screen Playwriting for Theater and
Television Films. Cleveland: World, 1952. Pg. 171. ↩
32. Herman, Lewis. A Practical Manual of Screen Playwriting for Theater and
Television Films. Cleveland: World, 1952. Pg. 171. ↩
33. Boon, Kevin Alexander. Script Culture and the American Screenplay. Detroit:
Wayne State University Press, 2008. Pgs. 3, 20-24. ↩
34. Bordwell, David, Staiger, Janet, and Thompson, Kristin. The Classical Hollywood
Cinema: Film Style & Mode of Production to 1960. NY: Columbia UP, 1985. Pgs.
330-337. ↩
35. Boon, Kevin Alexander. Script Culture and the American Screenplay. Detroit:
Wayne State University Press, 2008. Pg. 24. ↩
36. Maras, Steven. Screenwriting: History, Theory and Practice. NY: Wallflower, 2009.
Pg. 86. ↩
37. Maras, Steven. Screenwriting: History, Theory and Practice. NY: Wallflower, 2009.
Pg. 80. ↩
38. Maras, Steven. Screenwriting: History, Theory and Practice. NY: Wallflower, 2009.
Pg. 82. ↩
39. Maras, Steven. Screenwriting: History, Theory and Practice. NY: Wallflower, 2009.
Pg. 82. ↩
40. Maras, Steven. Screenwriting: History, Theory and Practice. NY: Wallflower, 2009.
Pg. 85. ↩
41. Maras, Steven. Screenwriting: History, Theory and Practice. NY: Wallflower, 2009.
Pg. 87. ↩
● Share|
7 pings
○ Colouring Inside the Lines | I Have a Concern... on 21 July 2014 at 4:14 PM
○ #
5. […] because someone, somewhere — a personage who has cunningly lost themselves to
history and let the blame fall on pretty much the entire early motion picture industry instead —
[…]
6. […] Photo Credit: A display of early Screenplay formatting, similar to the modern format, from
the shooting draft of King Kong, Screenplayology.com […]
○ Colouring Inside the Lines on 11 May 2017 at 10:08 AM
○ #
7. […] because someone, somewhere — a personage who has cunningly lost themselves to
history and let the blame fall on pretty much the entire early motion picture industry instead —
[…]
8. […] […]
Leave a Reply
IN THIS SECTION
RECENT POSTS
CATEGORIES
Commentary (12)
Featured Articles (13)
News (13)
Script Reviews (3)
META
Log in
Entries feed
Comments feed
WordPress.org
PAGES
home
blog
content sections
2.3. narratology
resources
glossary
All content © Copyright 2020 Andrew Kenneth Gay, except where otherwise noted.
Made with by Graphene Themes.