Christopher Columbus
He wanted to make money. He said he needed money so he could learn things. It was understandable. He was extremely clever. For a bigfoot, he was probably short and thin, but for a man it was hard to mask his monstrous qualities. But the hardest of scrutiny only saw a large homely man. Who could imagine an alternative? It wasn't long before he was asking questions about the nature of luck and the strange reasoning of prophets.
He had done it right I suppose. If you are going to toss yourself into a thing, you might as well go right for it. I felt privileged to have a purpose at last, something real, some genuine need for me beyond the page. It was foolish to think I could just go on and be a farm hand. At least I could be bigfoot's cohort and biographer. That was worth something. This is, I think.
I can sense his propensity for insight. It's as if he can only understand things in leaps and bounds, can only proceed into the world at a run. He thinks, I suspect, he is trying to catch up to us somehow. I envy him. What I wouldn't give to live in his world, fully integrated into the environment, the king of the forest. He has the character of his own gods like all great men, chest wide open to the world like a great sail, an explorer. He is the Christopher Columbus of bigfoots.
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