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  • Transvestalo

    The sandy dirt cast off a deep yet gentle orange-red light, rusty with a hint of orange.
    Cacti sat, still and silent, enjoying a refreshing play of wind along their bristles.
    ..'rustling', a hare peaked out from below the earth, listening and eager to start its night.
    On a cliff overlooking the valley sat a stern and solemn faced buffalo,
    deep in contemplative meditation as it watched the sunset.
    In the dim twilight could be seen, subtly, a dash of red on the side of his face,
    paint he made with particulates of the rustic desert sand.
    ...Sometimes....sometimes he felt like a buffolette. This was troublesome, he thought,
    buffalos aren't pretty or dainty or fashionable, and that's certainly not what female buffalo tended to be into.
    No, buffalo, especially male buffalo, were big, cumbersome, stocky and well.... buff.
    They don't show vulnerability or emotion and they certainly do not add a touch of red to their cheeks, but there he was.
    'Sigh" he let out, he wanted to be adorable, and vulnerable, for just a little while, to forego his reputation as the fighter,
    the one to take charge on the stampede trail.
    ...At last he was here, far from his past at the rodeo.
    It wasn't that they made him take charge or chase some poor soul. They.... made him put on a show...
    'Yes, that's it", he said, "I always had to be that buffalo, expected to live up to that image"....
    he continued thinking about how his past had shaped him, who he really was: what was his environment
    and what was him, or her, or whatever....
    ...This conflicted state of mind was clearly evident to the others.
    Not outright, but a lack of confidence often made its way to the surface, and as of late these feelings and urges had gotten stronger...
    a lot stronger....
    no doubt that the land had left him to himself.
    Buffalo tended to be rather "simple" he thought, but he never had much time to himself on the wrangling circuit,
    nor did he take his change of scenery for granted,
    it overwhelmed,.. he thought, he hoped he'd come into his own.

    Yes, he was a Transvestalo, however what he knew he needed, was time, knowing it was not well to do. to stress over it now.
    Tsalagi Nvwoti Didahnvwesgi Ale Didahnesesgi
    (Cherokee medicine practitioner of left and right hand paths) - The Anikutani Tradition