Freshly rejuvenated and fueled with local cuisine we embarked on our motorized stallion, traversing this foreign environment with mechanical ease. Immediately our senses were bombarded the course realities of a urban jungle, but with our technological supremacy we made quick work of the native cobblestone paths and vehicular confusion. Guided by the firm hand of our guide, his sun worn hands gently governing a comfortable synthetic atmosphere, our eyes were pleasured with the visual dynamics of this emerging society. From the obtuse street hawker to the plabien activities of a industrialized society Brazil fed our intellectual curiousities with a buffet of cultural appetizers and a stew of eclectic skin tones.

Arriving at Ile Aiye we met with a native resistance group, who since 1974 have been challenging the colonialist mantra through a musical medium of melodic weaponry and firm swords forged in the fiery pits of archaic suppression. Gathered in there dwelling they mentored our naive hands, crafting polished textures into battle worn machines primed to attack congregated animal skins and wood with decisive fiury.

Breaking the euphonic wedlock with our artistic brethren we traveled to the other side of town were our ambivalent artistic desires were grounded by the firm hands of the dida group. Met with many of the same tunes and Brazilian flow we began to tune our skill set.

Finally commencing a historic journey of historic proportions we flexed our organic prowliness through a series of menacing postures and violent expressions. As the fluid liquid bi-product of vigorous muscle contractions dissipated into the contradicting streams of atmospheric disturbances our bodies became depleted of the once bountifull resources we were rich in oh so not so long ago, and so we returned to our castle, to recuperate and plan our next endeavor.