Lately, there has been some furtive research going on regarding our furry friend. The other day we spent a whole hour looking for Giacometti on the grounds of the mental hospital in Brønderslev. We turned every stone and combed the forest behind the hospital. Every now and then we whistled a familiar tune, with a proven tracking record. All we found however, were some berries below and birds above. Later on, we knocked on the door of a shabby and shoddy looking farm house located outside the hospital area on the other side of the main road. It wasn't our turf really and therefor a bit scary. But the old hex was out apparently, so we could ingest the walls and the roof without anyone minding.
In the mean time, Giacometti is probably rambling around his hidden playground somewhere on the outskirts of our imagination. And swigging his tail dismissively at our poor efforts.
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