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Hard on the trail of Trent, I approached the Yurt. The herdsmen and his wife nodded knowingly and pointed west. Three days ago he had appeared out of the dusk, my interpreter translated. Tall and majestic.... like a Michelangelo come to life, the herdsmen whispered with a solemn nod. Steely eyes, broad shoulders, a face hardened by the elements. He had supped with them that night and was gone by first light. More myth than man, locals on every continent have a legend about Trent. To some he is a son of a god in search of the perfect story to take back to heaven. To others he is the bringer of trinkets and harvest rains. To the Borgen twins in Oslo he was the drunk guy that hit on them at New Years 2010...
With an array of cameras in hand, Trent now wanders the earth in search of the perfect focus pulled/tilt shifted/Spielburg-esque/panoramic composition. His life’s dream? To be Batman. His other dream? To capture epic shit on film.
