Oceans away, a man of mystery has shifted shape and time. Backed by rocks cut by the sea and buffed by the wind, a black cloak swirls about him, obscuring form and figure, while a wispy hood of dark gray hair simultaneously frames and conceals his face. Is this the mysterious Mr. Oud, so recently introduced and still so out of focus? The wind is too strong to discern his tell-tale fragrance and namesake.
He appears as if walking on water, but we know it better to be desert, and the mirrored surface is some combination of heat and optical illusion ~ a sleight of sight Mr. Oud would very much enjoy. Or so we would assume; assumptions are all we have when it comes to the mystery of Mr. Oud. While every person is their own mystery, some insist on revealing far more of themselves than was ever asked. (Ahem.) Mr. Oud was never forthcoming that way, and perhaps thatís why we follow him a little more closely. What fun is there in chasing after what has already been thrown in your face? Gazing upon a pair of pasties will always be more scintillating than gazing upon a pair of nipples. Gypsy Rose Lee understood this, and so should you.
Mr. Oud is above such crude analogies, and his black cloak has billowed into a beige trench coat lined with Burberry plaid, his hair suddenly swept into a manicured coif, and his surroundings a sea of concrete sidewalks backed by buildings that soar out of sight. Mr. Oud is on the move.
