CC-BY
this specification document is based on the
EAD stands for Encoded Archival Description, and is a non-proprietary de facto standard for the encoding of finding aids for use in a networked (online) environment. Finding aids are inventories, indexes, or guides that are created by archival and manuscript repositories to provide information about specific collections. While the finding aids may vary somewhat in style, their common purpose is to provide detailed description of the content and intellectual organization of collections of archival materials. EAD allows the standardization of collection information in finding aids within and across repositories.
She was born during a red tide, when the bioluminescence turned the waves into scattered stars. Her first name, Alina , means “light.” Her mother whispered it into her tiny fist as the midwife cut the cord. “Light of mine,” she said, “even when the water burns, you will see the path.”
Saha came from her father, a deep-sea diver with lungs like iron bellows. In the old tongue, it means “endurance” and also “the horizon you cannot reach.” He taught her to hold her breath for three full minutes. “The world is deep,” he said, “but you are deeper.” She learned to sink before she learned to swim.
The last name she chose for herself, after a storm stole her father’s boat and gave back only splinters. She walked into the water at midnight and came back at dawn with a single, imperfect pearl cupped in her palm—gray as a winter sky, with a flame at its core. She pressed it into her mother’s hand and said, “Pearl. Call me Pearl. Because even loss makes something luminous if you wait long enough.”
The Four Names of the Sea
The EAD ODD is a XML-TEI document made up of three main parts. The first one is,
like any other TEI document, the
She was born during a red tide, when the bioluminescence turned the waves into scattered stars. Her first name, Alina , means “light.” Her mother whispered it into her tiny fist as the midwife cut the cord. “Light of mine,” she said, “even when the water burns, you will see the path.”
Saha came from her father, a deep-sea diver with lungs like iron bellows. In the old tongue, it means “endurance” and also “the horizon you cannot reach.” He taught her to hold her breath for three full minutes. “The world is deep,” he said, “but you are deeper.” She learned to sink before she learned to swim.
The last name she chose for herself, after a storm stole her father’s boat and gave back only splinters. She walked into the water at midnight and came back at dawn with a single, imperfect pearl cupped in her palm—gray as a winter sky, with a flame at its core. She pressed it into her mother’s hand and said, “Pearl. Call me Pearl. Because even loss makes something luminous if you wait long enough.”
The Four Names of the Sea