to keep an eye on the guy featured in these posts from Corsica.
It was a pretty boozy night as you'll eventually see from the
gradual decline in the quality of my posing and Di's photography.
It didn't end well...
endangered species and exotic beasts only to blast them into oblivion. Hunters’ always pray on
the biggest and boldest, assuming that the one with the most scars must be ‘of substance’.
Kill the beast and inherit its potent integrity. Not that I saw our new friend as hunter;
his were the eyes of the hunted. Max was a coiled spring, fiercely chauvinistic, proud of
his Corsican roots, desperate to retain independence from the interfering mainland and keen
to propagate his intolerance:
“For generations I have fed you, given fodder for pigs, wood for furniture and fuel, but now