Where the wild things are
Posted: 20 May 2010
Hospitably, Kristophe invites us to look around his wooden shack, and we marvel at the simplicity of his lifestyle and the museum-like quality of his houselet. By way of entertainment, Kristophe strikes up an old, hand-wound gramophone that provides a somewhat scratchy but atmospheric soundtrack. It's like being in an old movie.
A horror movie.
Standing reverently looking at a selection of hunting bows and wood axes hung about the walls, all obviously well used, Justin turns to me with the kind of look that always makes me flinch slightly and says, in a conspiratorial whisper, "I wonder what he feeds the dogs on?" The gramophone scratchily strains, slowing as the spring winds down.