Wayfare to Mos Eisley

Acrylic Glass Print

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      $99

      This limited edition Acrylic Glass Print, designed by Gerardo Vélez, comes with a numbered and signed certificate of authenticity. Printed on archival-quality photo paper mounted on the back of a 1/8" thick, clear acrylic substrate, this artwork comes ready to hang on a wire attached to a wooden frame fixed on the back.

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      About this Artwork

      https://www.artstation.com/artist/corverez https://corverez.carbonmade.com/ May the 4th 2015 The sweat drop carved a path down the back of his gray haired head towards his neck when he immediately rose his torso up, awakened. The last cold gust of the night grazed his cheek as the twin suns began scorching the sand. His stomach was in knots and he gasped for air as he exited his sleeping bag. This one was made of a Wookie’s pelt, the Jedi had felt guilty of buying such an item but he could not afford a cold death in the middle of his sleep, his body was aging and could not withstand the punishment of his youth. “I feel something different will occur today, and this I sense not trough the force but in the air.” The Jedi Hermit had grown accustomed talking to himself, the dreaded feeling of solitude had long since died. Sometimes he spoke out-loud hoping his old master would respond like he occasionally did, Kenobi had not yet mastered this art of the force. Ben Kenobi began to prepare for his trek. He decided to wear part of his old Clone Wars armor, the thing had been more than faithful. The rest he tied to his bag. He held on to the armor in hope of better things, a memory of better times. A sight that always stung at his heart, a choking grasp of loss that reminded him of what to fight for. He packed everything else, his cooking pot, and water pouch, tightly around his rucksack with the rest of the armor. There was also an old rifle and a Gaffi stick he had obtained from a duel with a Tusken Raider. The weapons where there for defense purposes, he had to adapt to an uncivilized life, hiding from the Empire meant he could not unleash his lightsaber, which now lied on the sand next to his feet. It just laid there motionless, as if it were a stone that weighted a ton. He bended to grab it when he heard a familiar voice: “Be careful” Ben quickly rose and expanded his senses, hoping to hear his Master’s voice again through the force. Nothing. “ Careful? I am always careful, Master. Do you mean that I should not carry these?” He now looked not only at his weapon but at his former Padawan’s too. Pain drenched him. He wondered, now more often than before what could had been of him, of the Republic, had he left the Order, had he left and lived a normal life with Satine–had Satine not died. Well as normal as that could had been, he chuckled. Enough old man - he argued to himself- you didn’t leave the Order and you still believe in the code, no use dwelling in the past, you should live in the present and not in the would have beens. “This weapon is my life…”. He placed his lightsaber in his familiar clasp and held firmly the other one. ”…and this one is the life of the entire galaxy.“ Ben had been in hiding from the Empire protecting young Luke Skywalker from afar, he was still just a young boy nowhere near the path he was expected to walk but Ben always carried his weapon because no one knew when the Force would act. Now what did Qui Gon mean by “be careful”? It could only mean that my senses are right and I was mistaken, the disturbance was in the Force. It had been so long since he had felt it, everything was unbalanced, the Dark Side torrented it’s domain, everything was uncharted for him inside the Force. He now traversed down a rocky road, he intended to pass through Mos Eisley and discover the disturbance he had felt. “Whatever it is that’s going to happen, I am sure I’ll find it there, plus I could use a drink.” The twin suns shone up high in the sky. Every now and then he would stop for a gulp of water; every now and then he could not help it but to let his mind wander off to memories, many of him traveling through the rough desert. Even in hiding he did his best to keep training in secret and to uphold the Jedi Code, providing peace to whomever needed it. He had become proficient in the use of other weapons in the absence of his lightsaber. Debates when on endlessly in his mind about his purpose, he often lost sight of his mission in the heat, he would argue about peacekeeping and right and wrong, good and evil, there was no Jedi Council to compass his decisions, he now needed to be guided by empathy and more than ever he needed compassion, compassion to drive his decisions. Beyond the horizon he could see a silhouette approaching, the hairs in the back of his neck spiked and he went to grab his rifle when a shot was fired. He managed to evade it by pushing the projectile with the Force. The silhouette quickly advanced, propelled forward by a jetpack; a familiar sound, a familiar face. More shots approached him, he barely eluded them, one of them had found it’s home on his armored chest plate. He remembered his duel on the stormy night sky of Kamino. This was a known enemy, an enemy who also knew him. The Rangefinder in his goggles informed him the attacker was less than 100 meters away and quickly approaching in bursts of speed. This was an enemy to whom he needn’t hide his identity, one he could only defeat by a civilized weapon. Victory would be achievable trough the Force. The Hermit took off his handmade goggles as the bounty hunter stood in front of him, Boba Fett. The tension in the warm breeze rose, quietness embraced the atmosphere only to be shattered by the activation hum of Kenobi’s lightsaber.

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      Gerardo Vélez

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