November 18, 2014:
There's a torso on the ground. It's one half of a female manikin, cut lengthwise down the middle, lying with one arm stretched toward you, one eye pointed toward heaven.
It's like a cross between a bear and a kangaroo, seated upright beneath a young tree, slurping molasses from a one-gallon ceramic jug. It grunts to you as you stare.
Look: across the street, a sprawling bauxite factory.