Wessel and Tigo Fayne

Under the brim of a Western hat, someone is chowing down on a loaded potato at a picnic bench near the trail. It has all the fixings: sour cream, partially melted shreds of cheddar, salt and pepper, and chives. The potato is wrapped in crumpled foil that reflects shards of sunlight up at the eater's marble-brown eyes.

A giant hangglider-sized flying squirrel with glassy, bulging red eyes (with tiny black dots), a leathery snoot with flared nostrils, and a full set of ivory teeth angled inward flies along the path. Its large shadow rapidly scans over us and leaves us wondering, in fascination.

Five shining, burgundy yo-yos shoot out from a dude in a tank-top and they whirl and trace in exquisite patterns resembling the script of an unknown language or a language currently being invented. He does a full 360 degree pivot, and the strings of the yo-yos wrap around each other, twirling in ever smaller asynchronous orbits, then they reverse direction, again expanding into chaos.

We hear the sound of a distant rifle, signaling that the semi-annual hunt for the Giant Fox is underway.

A winning scratch-off lottery ticket and empty bottle of tomato juice lie discarded on the side of a pathway diverting from the main trail leading to a cave.

Two winged bursts of light-blue energy fight and play in the air above our heads and eventually rocket upward out of sight, leaving a luminescent trail of pale gold that slowly diffuses into glitter, catching shafts of light between the trees.

A tweed-clad character in a small, orange car pulls up and gives everyone precarious stacks of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. Everyone stands around, clutching the stacks from the top and bottom, not knowing how to begin to eat.

A towering, teal-haired woman in JNCOs types on a tiny, handheld keyboard while walking in huge strides. The pants are covered in diagonal zippers. A purple salamander is following her at full speed, its little rounded legs flailing in turbo mode.

A family walks by, all wearing cranberry-colored sweaters. They're handing out pamphlets from a basket.

A curly-haired kid zooms by on a trick bike, heading eagerly toward injury.

There's a trail of Chiclets along the dusty, compacted dirt path. They're being eaten by a rapidly growing purple salamander.

There is a fork in the road. And an emptied single-serving tub of plain Philadelphia cream cheese.

A traffic jam on 2 out of 3 bridges that pass over the forest sends a spontaneous harmony echoing through the valley.

Sidewinder snakes slither downhill from the apartment complex and enter the forest. They tentatively circle half a ruby red grapefruit discarded in back of a black, wrought-iron park bench. A bold toddler enters and exists their circle, unharmed.

Twenty feet away, a circle of 8 cellists are set up on the grass, and they're furiously playing Mendelssohn. The sound is carried away by the wind.

A shirtless man flaunts his six-pack abs, and with arms extended outward, triumphantly squeezes ketchup and mustard bottles in either hand. When they're both emptied, he whips them to the side and delivers a roundhouse kick in the air, as part of a performative martial arts display.

Polygons interlock just above the path.

Squirrels chase each other up an old tree, spiraling high into the canopy and quacking over the sounds of Mendelssohn, blowing around in snippets.

Carved into the side of a tree are the phrases:

"Rockhouse Department"

"Instrument Lodge"

"Purkinje and Golgi"

and

"Wessel and Tigo Fayne"

A girl in tears savors a cherry Ring Pop and glances up at us, almost exhausted.

Three clouds in the shapes of doves move across the path and descend into the river, slowly melting into cloud pancakes.

Dappled, light-blue and purple berries on the vine catch the joy of sunlight as clouds part. We watch as a kid picks the berries and squishes them under the toe of a brand new, white Reebok sneaker. Then he gets distracted by his friend, who is yelling in a cracking voice that sounds like a howler monkey, oblivious to the attention he's attracting.

A large, bold, gray cloud sprays rain on everyone, mixing with their ice cream, pitter-pattering on scattered, yellowing leaves everywhere, and drawing circles in the river.

White rayon turns see-thru as it sticks to clowns' chests and their red and blue makeup runs.