Climbing a stone bowl into fire, I have microbus wings and a potbelly as wide as a hog's back. The painter takes a brush and smears the sky, making my teeth hurt right to the jaw. There are three things I need here: a ball of yarn, two spokes and heaven's mandate to keep on this crazy trip. I wentfor a toitoi in town but found only chocolate bars and political posters. Vote for the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn! The Brothers of Unbelievable Calm know the path for our country. But now I'm in my comby driving up a bowl. Every day the shadows pass me and today I seek a truck stacked with dead bodies. There's no turning back now. There's a fire on the path and strange creatures who are half men half mud, but they don't slow me down. There are spirits in the roads who sell clay horse as icons and carved branches as fetishes. Windmilling arms and flailing legs I set upon the packs of the weak with my wicked tooth and my gleaming rings.