affame_le_geant_blindsight fyn gula painful memory is a sharpened knife that fits the calloused hand of the devil, for it is he in his premeditation that slides it deftly under the edges of our chain-mailed heart and nicks it just enough to make the soul bleed and the spirit cry. but it is the swift passage of time that like a loving, compassionate boho sweetheart, cleanses the wound with witch hazel and binds it with royal jelly and golden seal powder. it is these astringent and medicinal herbs that work to encourage the body to heal itself, just as the endless pursuit of passion and beauty heals the mind. and so, as puppertwinkle struggled in the disclosing of the scope's digital film and its disturbing contents depicting an observer's documentary- style imagery of the fall of birds, they both contemplated its effect on their emotional forecast. the tears that both saumboo and he shed were pure and acted as the balm of gilead, or some holy water genuinely applied by a jesuit priest. a somewhat humorless reality. you don't ever get over the death of someone, it just stops becoming the first thing you think about when you wake up. the film ended with footage of puppertwinkle stumbling upon feignez the woodpecker and she tricking him to think she was injured and in need of help. he pulled away from the scope to look upon saumboo. he was relieved to find him wiping his eyes and feeling better. "hay un SM marcado boton," saumboo asked, acting on a hunch that if puppertwinkle had his own button, maybe there was one personally created for his memories, as well. SM standing, perhaps, for saumboo's memories? puppertwinkle scanned the vast and various instrumentation of the scope, eager to succeed. some of the buttons were almost too small for his bony paw fingers to manipulate. but, sure enough, after thorough and precise examination, he found a copper button marked SM with a dial beside it, just like his. it was like rachel and madeline finding the clues for the robin hill treasure hunt and thrilled to see what it was this time. "si, senor," puppertwinkle said, wagging his tail. he loved to be the bearer of good news for a change. "ahora presioneloy ponga el alcacne hasta mi ojo," saumboo said. he wanted the little dog to press the SM button and put the scope up to his blind eye. in doing so, he revealed that the deeper intuition he possessed for this device was revolutionary, one that would never be televised. "apenas como pensamiento de i," saumboo said, and his complete hunch was correct. puppertwinkle held the scope up to saumboo's eyeball. his little body trembled not only with muscular strain, but in the fear saumboo would be disappointed in his hypothesis. "puedo ver!" (i can see!) saumboo shouted. his joy was not unlike quasimodo ringing the bells of notre dame. puppertwinkle ran around in circles of exploding happiness. inside the scope was a foto of frau werzenwozen pulling off one of feignez's wings. he remembered, of course, that he pulled the other one off, but why wasn't he in the foto? there was a black hand on the other wing. it had to be his. was he seeing what he would have if he had never been blind? 020916 ... pandora nope. he would have mentioned it and it would of stopped, well maybe it wouldn't have gone so far the challenge of attempting to even reach the button mixed in an array of buttons would have never happened no searching for piggies or whores and liars no LOADED equipment and arranged pieces of machinery oh no, i wouldn't like that 040320 what's it to you? who go blather from