Heat devils wiggle upwards from the toasted red soil stretched across the scraggy savannah.

Though sweat's trickling down the side of his face - on the squinting eye, cramped side - he remains still as stone.

It would all come down to one long shot, he reckoned, ignoring the insistent mosquito buzz.

There! A blue morpho.

"Click!"  

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Will's Impudent Reply to the Question: Tell us About Yourself?  

       Another aspiring scribe hailing from the Great Northern Kingdom of Cape Breton, I am nimble and I am quick.

       Brother once saw a photo of our great-grandfather with Winston Churchill, both smoking cigars, both making "V" signs.

       Father embodied the Zen koan "Can't get blood from a stone" while riding steel horses.

       Mother speaks Quebec-patois.  

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