You'd recognize him in any town or village in which you've lived or visited. His hair needs cutting. His clothes speak to years passed in service to the military (or to shopping where you find soldiers' castoffs). He speaks in tongue(s) you don't understand...unless you listen. Prone to fits, fugues, he is everywhere you are.

He knows all the people, trees, roads and mountains. His hands are the fisherman, knife-cutting kind. He gathers mushrooms for the restaurants and kills sangliers at dawn using no weapon.

Maybe his name is Aristide?

blog katherine sandoz ariskie.jpg

"ariskie (at the halloween dance)" acrylic on strathmore 6" x 6" 2002