affame_le_geant_end_of_part_two fyn gula white on white. the ghost of the dandelion walked amongst the fog enshrouded travelers so thick only the ephermal had eyes to see it. beholding saumboo, sinking into the quicksand of raw despair, his face streaked with burned embers and tears, his hands lifeless and heavy, the dandelion's ghost smiled. he watched the wooden cart fill its vacancy. frau werzenwozen asleep on the futon. feignez, wingless, inside a glass bee pollen jar, resting on the top of a wine hutch half full of pinot grigio and noir, italian merlot, california chardonnay, australian shiraz, a jug of chianti, and a bottle of grappa. puppertwinkle, in the driver's seat. saumboo, in the harness pulled tight against his heaving chest, his stone hands behind him, tied as a hitch to the cart. the portuguese rescue squad tied themselves to saumboo and helped him give the cart ample modes of locomotion. and so they journeyed onwards, forwards, andiamo! into the land that lay before them.................................___________________________________________________________________________GO_________________go+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++____________+++++++++...............................................123...wHAM! like sleepy lightning awakened, proina suddenly appeared before them along the bianca strada. icco, her eternal footman was beside her, protector of all that is honest and true. he was dressed not unlike the characters of "the last runner" and he spoke in a language only proina could interpret, although saumboo could speak enough of it to save his life, if necessary. she spread her pond of thin ice in front of him, hidden. saumboo walked straight into her trap of jealousy, breaking through the sheet of condemnation. when he avoided drowning through an intesive effort to escape, he found to his shock and tremendous horror that his entire body was numb. looking down at himself, he was no more than completely made of stone, save for his face. note: this is the end of part two. vichy's daughter rachel, who is eight, and i are already thinking up part three. 020803 ... farmfish i am dennis browne if you were wondering, jamie knows. fyn, they'll miss you. 020804 what's it to you? who go blather from