N.L. wields his Relic at an angry sun. Spits obscene litanies at the woods. His dance is timed with logging truck horns and distant chainsaw sounds (someone please help me). The interview is conducted from a safe distance with efficient behind-the-scenes coverage: we wanted to make something about Flesh and Blood but the trouble was finding the right setting and I think we can all agree when I say that we found it haw haw haw, no but in all seriousness, everybody here’s been great, haw haw haw, thanks for your time and have a great day, okay are we done rolling yet, okay why the fuck didn’t you give me my cue you fucking hard-on, letting me stroll into the narrative without any fucking point of entry. The Giant makes his appearance—buying faith for the naysayers and waving at the children who play with marbles on the porch. He doesn’t stay in our eyeline for long; his stride is too broad and he has better things to do. The N.L. dance continues. The Subject wrings a portfolio in his hands. Meanwhile, the angry sun continues cutting ripples in the breeze.