affame_le_geant_the_trailer_begins fyn gula did you ever wish you could catch a glimpse of your future? saumboo was always curious of what he would be doing with his life and he often qustioned his existence, like where did he come from, why was he here and existenial shit of that sort, but actually being able to see into his future? no fucking way. however, he could not pull his eye away from the mahogany scope as the initial strains of moulin rouge composer craig armstrong's poignant music provided a stirring, unavoidable sense of anticipatory dread within him. the french message, white words on a black screen proclaiming the film trailer of saumboo's life faded out and the washed image of a young man riding a bicycle faded in. saumboo's eyes narrowed. he tried to place the man somewhere in his memory either recent or distant, but felt only frustration for he did not possess recognition of him. but wait, there was something he could remember and that was the bike path. of course, it was a section of the bianca strada where saumboo first began his journey. fieldstone and verdant grass, grazing alpine goats and a lone black sheep, barking dogs and young pine trees, beautiful, young girls on horseback. this was the land that he broke through upon from cirkelia. this was robin hill. the dude on the rusty, pedal bike was cruising playfully, in and out of puddles that had generously formed overnight from a soft, steady rainfall. he was casually dressed in baggy a+f cargo khakis with the thread line coming unraveled. he wore an xl white t-shirt with a handmade logo on the front of a black fish with red letters scrawled by a child that said, "fishboy, in and out of thee water." on the back it said, "robin hill puppet theatre" and gave a fone number. his tanned, muscular legs were straight out, off the pedals, with feet snug in hunter green socks and doc marten work boots held together by duct tape. his chiseled jaw ended in a soul patch on his chin, with a silver ball pierced below the lip. in his ears were small silver hoops. on his finger one turquoise ring for he had married young, and upon his wrist a turquoise bracelet with two circular balls symbolizing the two parallel worlds. around his neck were blue and white sea beads, blue sky with clouds. his hair was wild and growing out from a summer cut, never combed, the color of wet straw. he had tattoos on the inside of both arms. on the right was a southwestern sun with the words, "this_revolution_will_not_be_televised" on the left was a bird in flight with the words, "oblivion_is_dead_long_live_clarity" puppertwinkle sat at saumboo's feet listening to his description, his little apple head turning this way and that to saumboo's melodic voice. it was like a song from "the blue nile's" paul buchanan, emotion in the telling. the little dog knew who the man was on the bike and he also knew where he was going. 020921 what's it to you? who go blather from