marox_pass_more_to_life fyn gula the panda, unaware of helin's intentions of giving him the directions, took a tyger out of his Land End's booksatchel, his mother had found for him for ten quid at a thrift shoppe in oxford. it was a bigcat in his mind but constructed of yellow chamois and black and white felt stripes. "black and white are colours we understand," nabiscus said later, when he saw the film, this one directed by a friend of tom's, of "run lola run" fame who recently premiered "the princess and the warrior" in pittsburgh. the glue must have been poor, for several of the jagged lines were falling off. (note to self: do research on better glues.) actually one did and landed on copello's doc marten boot, still wearing them in the summer with long shorts and browne socks. little wonder he gets stares from the fountain drinkers. "nice found paper," anton remarked, as he too watched the film. copello picked it up and put it his pocket where a red teletubby, that he found on the white gravel paths of idlewild, already lay. he thought that someday soon he would glue it inside his koufax journal, next to the article where handwritten thank-you notes on personal stationary is still the most endearing way to transfer thought to emotion. ("and wouldn't you rather have your envelope stand out in the pile of bills and magazines? ask yourself, who doesn't like a note?") ...lynn hirschberg, harpersbazaar.com "i am a growling tyger and will not bite unless i am given what i came for," the panda said, doing a favorable impersonation of a threatening beast. it was convincing enough," copello said, later, when interviewed by frAnk. anyway, helin gave him the directions, yes gave. and this is where we realise there are no coincedences, only acts of contrition. the panda seemed genuinely surprised, he was not acting. more relieved than anything. "to be a fantasy is nice, but being real is everything." maylay said to nimbia as they were walking out of the Harris theatre. the panda looked at copello for a long time. in silence, except for the breaking of waves. then tears made tiny rivers to the sea. damp fur cheeks. he sang this song from heart, by karen peris. the words were barely distinguishable from his choking sobs and several blown noses. "beauty is still free beauty is not exclusive beauty is ours to touch and to know totouchandtoknow. don't you think there's more? i really have to know. don't you think there's more to life?" 010819 what's it to you? who go blather from