There was a queue of tanned toucans lined up on the blue sand - so early it was still dew damp. They were sculpting a nude man with their two wings which had evolved into two hands. They ate goo-ham from a stew can while discussing the cinematography of Tulipan in comparison to their home-made porn on boob-cam. A few jammed on the blue sand, dancing in a shoe stamp tune camp as the sunset fell with a hue grand enough to feature on the front page of a news stand.