Strolling along the bed of the red river, Amadis stumbled upon a piece of human tissue, resting on the floor, between a bundle of muddy plane tree leaves and a puddle of brown water. The puddle seemed to have microorganism floating or living in it. The piece of human flesh seemed to have just emerged from the water. It was moist and hairy, strangely hairy. The hair were sparse and few, reasonably distanced from each other, but they were long, white, almost silver, and had a frightening sharpness about them. Amadis knelt down to get a closer look at it, his left knee sinking centimeters within the thick concoction of damp soil and dead grey leaves. The organism and its possible origin became even more uncertain and somber at close range. It heaved up and down, drops of water circling along the menacing fencing hair. Was it alive? Amadis thought about touching it from the tip of his brown fingers, but the thought came to a halt, in midair. There was a predominant sentiment, an instinct, that nothing good would come from mixing his cells with the unknown substance. The organism was five to six centimeters long, perhaps two or three in thickness. It kept heaving up and down as if mimicking a breathing. Amadis stood back. Then got close again. He moved a few leaves disdainfully with his left foot. The wind whistled, a rustling of leaves argued against Amadis’ ill intentions, and with their indiscreet murmur rose a most disturbing smell of rotten sap and damp roots. The sudden stank hit Amadis like a slap, he stumbled two footstep backwards. He looked fixedly at the resting organism all the while seemingly fighting off the invisible strength of the wind. Finally, he opened his coat pocket, picked up his lighter from its mist. Grabbed his notebook from his satchel, tore down a couple a virgin pages, crumpled them with his left hand and lit them on fire with his right. Then he knelt back down by the hairy organism and, without an ounce of visible emotion, he dropped the burning papers on top of it. Within seconds, the organism squeaked and wriggled under the embrace of the fire. The stank was unbearable.