Makassar

Cut off by a parang, the jungle wood oozes a red sap that capsizes the spirit. The dark, black-veined scent of the Sulawesi underbrush, of tropical mountains teeming with lianas and pythons. Just above the surface, blowing in from the horizon, a puff of powder carried by the hot winds sends the forest of the lambos' sails a-pitching, disturbing the air, blue with tobacco and burned incense as the sun sets.