How and why to write a movement? Who is the writer? Who is the reader? They may be choreographers working with dancers. They may be roboticists programming robots. They may be artists designing cartoons in computer animation. In all such fields the purpose is to express an intention about a dance, a specific motion or an action to perform, in terms of intelligible sequences of elementary movements, as a music score that would be devoted to motion representation. Unfortunately there is no universal language to write a motion. Motion languages live together in a Babel tower populated by biomechanists, dance notators, neuroscientists, computer scientists, choreographers, roboticists. Each community handles its own concepts and speaks its own language. The book accounts for this diversity. Its origin is a unique workshop held at LAAS-CNRS in Toulouse in 2014. Worldwide representatives of various communities met there. Their challenge was to reach a mutual understanding allowing a choreographer to access robotics concepts, or a computer scientist to understand the subtleties of dance notation. The liveliness of this multidisciplinary meeting is reflected by the book thank to the willingness of authors to share their own experiences with others.

On the 14th of August 1941, a Polish monk named Maximilian Maria Kolbe was murdered in Auschwitz. Kolbe's life had been remarkable. Fiercely intelligent and driven, he founded a movement of Catholicism and spent several years in Nagasaki, ministering to the 'hidden Christians' who had emerged after centuries of oppression. A Polish nationalist as well as a monk, he gave sanctuary to fleeing refugees and ran Poland's largest publishing operation, drawing the wrath of the Nazis. His death was no less remarkable: he volunteered to die, saving the life of a fellow prisoner. It was an act that profoundly transformed the lives of two Japanese men. Tomei Ozaki was just seventeen when the US dropped an atomic bomb on Nagasaki, destroying his home and his family. Masatoshi Asari worked on a farm in Hokkaido during the war and was haunted by the inhumane treatment of prisoners in a nearby camp. Forged in the crucible of an unforgiving war, both men drew inspiration from Kolbe's sacrifice, dedicating their lives to humanity and justice. In The Martyr and the Red Kimono, award-winning author Naoko Abe weaves together a deeply moving and inspirational true story of resistance, sacrifice, guilt and atonement.

How and why to write a movement? Who is the writer? Who is the reader? They may be choreographers working with dancers. They may be roboticists programming robots. They may be artists designing cartoons in computer animation. In all such fields the purpose is to express an intention about a dance, a specific motion or an action to perform, in terms of intelligible sequences of elementary movements, as a music score that would be devoted to motion representation. Unfortunately there is no universal language to write a motion. Motion languages live together in a Babel tower populated by biomechanists, dance notators, neuroscientists, computer scientists, choreographers, roboticists. Each community handles its own concepts and speaks its own language. The book accounts for this diversity. Its origin is a unique workshop held at LAAS-CNRS in Toulouse in 2014. Worldwide representatives of various communities met there. Their challenge was to reach a mutual understanding allowing a choreographer to access robotics concepts, or a computer scientist to understand the subtleties of dance notation. The liveliness of this multidisciplinary meeting is reflected by the book thank to the willingness of authors to share their own experiences with others.

The irresistible story of Japanese cherry blossoms, threatened by political ideology and saved by an unknown Englishman 'This is not just a tale of trees, but of . . . endeavour, war and reconciliation' Sunday Times Collingwood Ingram, born in 1880, became known as 'Cherry' for his defining obsession. As a young man, he travelled to Japan and learned of the astonishing displays of cherry blossoms, or sakura. On a return visit in 1926, Ingram witnessed frightening changes to the country's cherry population. A cloned variety was sweeping the landscape and being used as a symbol for Japan's expansionist ambitions. Determined to protect the diversity of the trees, Ingram began sending the rare varieties from his own garden in England back to Japan with the help of a network of 'cherry guardians'. This is an eloquent portrait of an extraordinary man whose legacy we enjoy every spring, and his unsung place in botanic history. 'Engrossing . . . A portrait of great charm and sophistication' Christopher Harding, Guardian Winner of the 2020 Award for Excellence from The Council on Botanical and Horticultural Libraries