I've spent a long life travelling through time and space, meeting amazing people who inhabit these distant worlds. 

As I couldn't resist sharing these incredible encounters with you, I decided to portray them all. 

One day, while passing through one of these distant lands, I asked permission to take a photographic portrait of the local monarch. I was violently thrown at his feet. The obvious then struck me more surely than the blows of his bodyguard. I didn't need to see his face to know everything about him. It was all there, in front of me. The two pillars supporting his majesty said as much about him as his ruddy face. I was allowed to portray his feet, which they considered a humiliating punishment. 

For my part, I had found a new purpose for my travels: to meet the souls who inhabit our universes... and to photograph their feet. 

Feet don't lie. For they have no intentions towards you, only to support you strongly, to wear proudly whatever you choose to put on them, to carry you faithfully wherever you want to go. And they will tell you so much about yourself. Perhaps more than you know.  

Look at them. 

Feel them. 

Question them. 

What do you see?

If you want to learn more about the history of the Yokai Ogama, it's over here ⬇

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Yokai.com

Translation: giant toad Alternate names: bakegama Habitat: mountains and rivers Diet: carnivorous Appearance: Ōgama are enormous toads. They can grow incredibly large and they become more dangerous the larger they get. Their long tongues are agile and sticky, and they can catch and drag just about anything into their mouths to eat.

So, first of all, I imagined 7 hermit toads traveling the world in search of their native mountain. I needed a balance in this group of wandering misfits, so I thought of different but complementary profiles. So here are the first 7 hermit toads. They are no longer available, but a volume 2 is coming soon.

The sneakiest of the bunch, always up to mischief. Even though he's got a good heart and you can count on him, he clearly has his own agenda...

She can either restore all your energy with her delicate dishes or kill you with the first bite.

Let the magic of his brushes flow. Everything he paints becomes reality.

The oldest of the group, a bit grumpy or sleepy... watch out if you wake him up during his nap.

Wielding the katana like no other and a brawler, he has his own character but will always get you out of a tough situation.

As long as his stomach is full, he will be kind to you and helpful. An apprentice magician who uses his magic mainly for his gustatory needs.

Always seeking new adventures, he's clever and knows how to adapt to any situation. A stable and solid element for our group.

But the adventure doesn't stop there; there's a whole world behind this team of misfits. Soon, the second founder will be revealed, along with the next 7 hermit toads 👀

Stay Tuned 🐸

If Isis's ranking wasn't so low to the point where she couldn't afford her degenerative pills anymore, she probably wouldn't be here today, sinking into these vile and putrid swamps.

But can she really complain? She always managed to swap her rank C missions for rank A ones, effortlessly boosting her ranking without much effort.

Her mission this time was child's play: find the Black Moon pond and implant an elec sphere without attracting attention. This simplicity, mind you, is uncommon in rank A missions.

Although she never truly understood the deep reasons why the Polis leaders persisted in maintaining any diplomacy with the Slum or constantly intervening in these desolate lands, she always carried out her missions with disconcerting ease and without complaint.

Her third-generation GPRadar, which she acquired last week, now allowed her to geolocate the slightest energy source hundreds of kilometers away and optimize her movements to the extreme thanks to the fungal blob technology synthesized into her tool (Among other things). This would make her mission today much easier.

It's true that in the swamps, everything is desolation. Every square centimeter of mud looks the same, and every tree is there only to further weigh down the already too dense and futile landscape... at least, that's what Isis thought, who didn't hold the Sleepers in her heart and gave them too little credit, along with their environment.

Despite her lack of interest in this environment, it still took her no more than a handful of minutes to reach the Black Moon pond. Making sure via her GPradar that no one was around, because ongoing diplomacy dictated that there should be no interference from the vigilantes in the slum. Such missions must not leak out at the risk of triggering a new conflict between the two factions.

Facing the pond, she materialized her sphere by unpinning her corp capsule, thus releasing the energy ball in front of her. She mechanically threw the sphere, a sphere that, in her eyes, had little importance, then waited, out of diligence, for it to sink deeper into the water.

Although her body was still in the slum, her mind was already elsewhere, probably in a sushi bar, contemplating the delicate dishes she would savor tonight.

Before she could even feel the slightest vibrational change in the air or receive a notification from her GPradar, a mortuary mirage had just hit her head-on, and she fell into a hypnagogic state

He is one of the most promising sleepers due to his extraordinary mastery of mirage projection. His sharp wit and obsession with improvement have allowed him over time to project increasingly complex and dangerous mirages.

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Decentralized thinking (@DC) on Drakula

Drakula video from Decentralized thinking (@DC): Medus the sleeper with Ghostly Skulls 💀💀💀 Morpheus : https://mrphs.io/

🎞 https://youtube.com/shorts/K0MFeAPa3TQ 🎞

Despite his popularity among the residents and his ability to adapt and socialize easily, Medus is a solitary sleeper. He has long deserted the slum, spending most of his time meditating or sleeping on the outskirts of the city's remotest temples. Although he is a sleeper, he hardly ever truly sleeps. He practices polyphasic sleep with disconcerting ease, allowing him to remain constantly vigilant and alert. He has the habit of using his mirages to roam around the slum, bringing back every detail of what is happening there.

Medus emits such a murderous aura that it's difficult to stand beside him without suffocating, yet he constantly conceals it when in the company of other sleepers because he dislikes drawing attention to himself more than necessary.

His constant need to send his mirages to observe people leads us to believe that despite choosing solitude, he feels weighed down by it. Knowing what his former companions, his past loves, are doing helps him alleviate the nightmares that haunt his daily life.

The slum is situated in the lower city, barely elevated above the old town, which is now submerged underwater.

These marshy waters are toxic and continue to become more so each day as they receive the techno-chemical waste from Polis. The vapors emanating from these waters form a thick mist that envelops and suffocates the slum, depriving the inhabitants of direct sunlight (which struggles to penetrate through this thick and opaque mist).

The neighborhood once known as the Pleasure District retains only the name. The damp mist emanating from the flooded basements has made any walk perilous and chilling.

Though a few windows still offer glimpses of a reddish glow, once a signal to potential patrons that the place was open and ready to warmly welcome any traveler, it is now just a routine habit without real significance.

Step into these houses and you will find only sleepy bodies most of the time. Meanwhile, the denizens of the slums have lost interest in seeking amusement, believing in the Eternal Sleep, turning further away from earthly and carnal frivolities.

The night and the day have been blending together for far too long, so wandering has become a regular activity. You may witness canoes gliding to the rhythm of the breaths of the sunken old town. The inhabitants move from house to house along the waterways. Although the water is polluted and toxic, it remains the lifeblood of the slums, flowing between each building, setting the pace. Some sleepers with extraordinary immune systems occasionally bathe in it and venture to explore the remnants of the old town.

The only thing that makes us believe that life still exists are these few dull glimmers that windows reveal from the outside. Sleeping has become the most practiced activity of the sleepers. Although it may seem gloomy at first glance, it would be clumsy to think that sleepers do not fully live their lives. Lucid dreaming is increasingly mastered, and sleepers now use dreams to live, train, learn, and evolve. Having broken the boundary between wakefulness and sleep gives them incredible strength. Playing with time, they are capable of living more adventures in a second than you could in a day.

The living temples have flourished since the Nightmare Fuel. The Sleepers do not believe in dominating nature; they simply accompany it. That is why many temples are weathered and breathe to the rhythm of nature rather than the whims of the proud and aesthete eye of the vigilant.

Meditating allows them to remain in a semi-awake, semi-asleep state, attempting to achieve full consciousness. It also enables them to better hear the murmurs of the First. The path to knowledge here lies in this porosity between dream and wakefulness.

Sleepers, devoid of doping pills or implants, lead a much more modest and leisurely lifestyle compared to the Vigilants. Sleeping also enables them to minimize their vital needs to the bare essentials.

Many sleepers have forsaken the luxuries of modern life and now content themselves with little. Loose, simpler-to-make, and more comfortable attire has become the standard.

Masks made from natural materials allow the most fragile sleepers to avoid exposure to direct light or to breathe more easily.

Paper remains an endless source of ancestral knowledge for sleepers. Requiring neither power source nor recharge, they are both remnants of an ancient world and the future of sleeper knowledge. They are more precious to some Sleepers than their own lives. When time ceases to exist, getting lost in readings becomes comforting and warm. Sleepers forget their condition and escape for a moment.

In the Slum, activities are severely limited. Any action that is not essential or vital has no place to exist. Trades have been reduced to the bare minimum. This is how craftsmanship, for example, can endure. No middleman, no subcontractor, the creator finds himself facing his creation, in a deathly, soporific silence. His art resonates and keeps him awake. Each hammer blow distances him from the sleep that constantly threatens to engulf him.

Working with the material has become a means of fighting against eternal sleep.

The dojo, once vibrant with life, have become deserted. However, there still emanates a mystical aura, and energies continue to converge there. Some sleepers still come to exchange blows from time to time, as it is through the blade that they find their salvation.

Drink to forget, forget to sleep. Many sleepers believe in awakening through sleep. Daydreams are the promise of a better future, so it's not strange to see residents sleeping at the counter.

Sleepers don't renovate; they've abandoned material, superficiality that has no place when sleep prevails. Why clutter with these trivialities when once asleep, anything is possible? The material world is dull and suffers the ravages of time, whereas the dream knows no time. A life in a second - that's a quote one can find in many dilapidated houses.