A woman was standing in front of one of Jodi’s favorite pieces, Nebuchadnezzar’s Vision. The stranger had her back to them, dressed in a beautiful little black dress and sexy black heels. The ears were adorned with simple stud earrings, and the blonde hair was gathered in a fancy knot, with honey colored strands framing the face.

What struck Jodi the most was not the obvious beauty of the woman before her, but the fact that she was touching the peculiar sculpture. That behavior would be considered ill-mannered and childish in an art gallery, but the fact was that Jodi had meant for her pieces to be experienced not only visually, but with as many senses as the person dared to invest. Not one of the many guests tonight had even approached any of the pieces enough to notice the nuances and imperfections in them. But here was this stranger, gingerly caressing one of the small figures that made up the large structure.

The sight was enough to shake Jodi from her stupor; this was someone she certainly didn’t mind talking to.

The stranger must have heard them come in, because without turning around, she spoke. “Nebuchadnezzar’s… is that from the Bible?”

Jodi had to read Tom interpreting, and replied in sign language for her friend to translate. “He was mentioned there… yes. But he was a historical figure… a Babylonian king.”

“And what does it mean?” the woman asked, her hand now tracing the giant totemic pole in the middle of the piece.

Jodi had inspired Nebuchadnezzar’s Vision on one of her favorite bedtime stories. Her father used to recount to her the story of the three brave Jews that had defied the Babylonian king, who had erected a huge idol on the plain of Dura and declared that whoever refused to worship it would be cast into a fiery furnace. The three young men refused to worship another nation’s god, but had emerged from the furnace completely unscathed.

Of course, that was the story that inspired the piece… but it didn’t have much to do with its significance.

“I think this piece lacks one true message,” Jodi signed. “It’s about personal interpretation; whatever you gather from it, that’s its meaning.”

“Really?” the woman asked, tilting her head to the side. “Because I think is an ode to a giant phallus.”