marox_pass_ingrid_and_santa_fe fyn gula the girl puppet's name was ingrid and she was the one the young man in the surfing video was looking for. no, she didn't go to the contest that day, there are things she does that make it hard to remember to forget, (vintage clothes shopping, cleaning tack,taking the cannondale down canada larga road) although some people said she was there after the third heat, but that was too late because when earthquakes rip the earth, nothing can suture the ground, nothing can erase the damage. when hearts break, they crack hard, and there is not a glue that can repair them. only time heals and the scars remain. in the time of her absence, he fled like a rabbit from a fire. the ingrid puppet was motionless and anton questioned it, figuring it was in portrayal of the dissolving beauty of inconsideration. as they continued to watch, popcorn falling from the lips to the ground where ants would arrive, carry it off and feast for days, a black felt cloth fell about her head which unraveled and completely covered her, as if the darkness of his lonely soul swallowed her whole. nabiscus gasped. there was an accompanying soundtrack playing, an obvious moment for adam duritz to capture. "good call," maylay said, as 'colorblind' started. slowly, the ingrid puppet was removed, which was followed by the unfurling of a cloth backdrop painted in a southwestern landscape and a small playmobil vehicle appeared on the puppet stage. "he's beginning the cross country odyssey," anton remarked. "first stop santa fe." "he's fucking running away," nylem said. the young man with the broken heart lived for several weeks amongst the brown-skinned people and their canvas skies. he worked beside them for lodging and tamales. he quickly learned enough of the patois to understand when it was time to move on for welcomes only last so long. and when he returned to the interstate, he was no longer alone, for memories of new mexico rode beside him in the front seat, a passenger that told him stories of black-eyed children begging for faery tales, sunswept old men teaching him to read the movement of clouds, raven -haired women leaving their fragrance behind in his small, plank supported bed that creaked like history repeating itself. how was this all done with puppets you ask? narration and its effect on remembrance: the story of fyn gula is one all kemulyan children were told, along with the alphabet and proper syntax. a tale of caution, on what mistakes we must avoid, yet always recited with the hope of remedy. water with a hint of lemon. a pleasant surprise unless it sits too long and becomes bitter. 010714 ... log burning fire yup, gotta drink it quickly. 060312 what's it to you? who go blather from