"Even when familiar to everyone in the broadest strokes, upon closer attention an artist's career might offer notes of considerable interest. We discovered as much on a recent afternoon that found one of your favorites in an expansive mood.

Raised at the southern tip of a centennial scream by parents of distinct backgrounds (his father was a piped-in click-track, his mother the keening of a half-released brake), Titicacaman was apprenticed at a tender gauge to the quick-fading echo of a dropped penny. Mingled chants and shuffling greeted his public debut as an opening jar of waves, dogs paddling inward from its perimeter to bark at a passing steamer. Like many a flat rock and bowed record before him, he skipped conventional schooling to enroll in a culvert of shattering paper and folding glass. There he made key discoveries in the archived notes of the bass staff, soon published in the official organ of the Orificial Organ Brotherhood. A minor bridge carried him over striped bovines and through wind-shuddered chain-link into the field of open-palmed schoolyard percussion. Subsequent years, as every child knows, have found him working with time-blackened leaves, Lilliputian chickens scratching worms from their holes, and excess brain of uncatalogued varieties. Asked for a final word for readers, his arguably anomalous choice was hello."
THE TITICACA DAILY - S - BY YOEL MITH (Entertainment Section)

"13 creatures formed a circle around an object. They became a shield, a shelter, blocking the object from view. Curious, I approached the circle, the creatures hissed. Meekly, I returned to my spot. These beings were a strange breed. Mostly human, they stood and moved like humans do, but they had feline traits, a curvature of the spine, and raptor eyes. They were mostly naked except for leaping shoes and a strange sort of armor covering their vital parts. Their arms were entwined, locked together in a strong stance. Straight. Their eagle-like eyes wide open, hardly blinking. Why were they guarding this object?

"What is it?" I asked with a shout, cupping my mouth so they could hear me. Silence. I asked again: "The object, what is it?" Stares to silence an earthworm. A few more minutes went by, my curiosity was so great I could not leave. I found a shady spot under a tree and settled myself to see what, if anything, would unfold. The wall was still, sand peppered the ground."
EXCERPT FROM: ACCOUNTS OF THE PROPHETS - "THE BIRTH OF TITICACAMAN" PROPHET BEEL