Ah, Sarawak... Out here, the Sunnis run a stronghold. And to think that not a single one of them is Arab...other than an occasional immigrant... But then, Sarawak's never paid much homage to immigrants.

Here, the coast erodes. And hence, the shallows are very muddy. Marine life has a hard time adapting down there; it can't see a thing.

There are many coves and gulfs up and down Sarawak's coast. At one point, the coast becomes Brunei's. Sarawak and Brunei compete for a lot of things. But for the most part, it's a friendly rivalry; NOT like the Pakistani States vs. the Indian States, or Turkey vs. Greece...

Ashore, it's nothing but jungle. That's expected; the least tropical of these lands are only five degrees north of the Equator.

There are mangrove forests. Throughout them, you hear birds, bugs, and monkeys sing incessantly. And every now and then, the gibbon bellows its bugle. And the siamang bellows its bugle even louder. (Not to be confused with Samsung, which is a Korean company.)

From the seas, several fjords flow into canyons. Inland, Sarawak's got mountains. A jungle carpet covers all of them...but tends to get thinner as one gets higher up.

From up these heights, many waterfalls tumble. They fall right into the fjords, and mix in with the saltwater from the coast.

Near one of these falls, there's a mangrove forest. Its trees grow right out of the water, and high into the air.

Surrounded by such trees, a boy and a girl share a prolonged moment alone. For now, and for as long as it lasts, humanity is too far away to matter. It's only about each other, and the massive amount of beautiful space that nourishes their souls...if not their bodies.

But then, by the looks of it, neither of their bodies NEED nourishing. They both look fine. She's a local Sarawakian with long straight raven hair...and has got topless boobs that are worthy of a water buffalo's udder.

And yes; here, they are, in fact, called "water buffalos." It's the AFRICAN buffalos that aren't...

He, by contrast, is Nepali. He's surrounded by land that reminds him of home; fjord and all. Except where he comes from, the fjord is part of the Ganges River. And the mountains are the jungle-covered sides of the Himalayas.

Meet Tooraj. He's a white man of Sikkim. He's not a Muslim, but he's no stranger to Islam. He comes from a very conservative family. He's come to Sarawak to escape all of that...and to use his capitalist/religious talents on whoever works best with him.

So far, this busty Iban beauty works VERY well with him. They're almost a match made in heaven. Tooraj would hate to become between her and her conservatively Iban family. Alas, as a national conservative, he's destined to encourage rivalries between his own Nepali nation in Sikkim, and the nations of whoever he challenges/challenges him.


The waterfall sends much down the fjord. Up the fjord, things from far out into the Pacific drift in.

It's a small glass bottle. It looks like it's been adrift for a while...

Eliza's still inside, lying on her back...in the same rebel flag bikini she's been in. She's still very-much unaware that someone should've shouted "land ho" a few hours ago. She's also unaware that a fine man for her is just upstream...

Upstream, Tooraj wades through the mangroves...to a longboat that's moored to one of the trees. She swears, when he sees that the monkeys have run off with a few of his things.

In a tree nearby, a slow loris moves slowly, from tree to tree. His eyes are big. This shade is generous...but as usual, he can't wait for the night to come...

With a paddle, Tooraj starts his way back to where he's crashing. He alternates port and starboard, with his strokes.

Upriver, he sees the glass bottle. He thinks nothing of it.

Alas, somehow, he paddles towards it. His mind's not in it. He's just...headed that way.

Down in the bottle, Eliza rests. About now, her eyes crack...

Above, a huge guy's hand reaches for her. She nearly wets the water all around her, as she screams her lungs out. The bottle amplifies her scream...but not enough for huge Tooraj to hear.

He grasps it, and mindlessly throws it into the bilge. There, it turns over on its side, and spills its guts...so to speak.

Little Eliza's flushed away. She's still less than a thousandth her normal size. She's swept away into what feels like, to her, a great flood. In reality, it would hardly influence Tooraj...even if it caused her to wash up onto his big toenail.

And it does. He doesn't see her. He doesn't even feel her. She's just become too insignificant. And to think that just yesterday, she was a member of a fucking First Family...

Up here, on his toenail, she feels like vomiting. She feels like vomiting even more when she acknowledges the forest of hair that covers both of his legs. This is going to take a VERY long time to get used to...

From behind, a tiny rebel flag covers her ass. It doesn't cover much. But then, it's a bikini, isn't it?

After vomiting generously, Eliza notices the massive slope of his upper foot, leading up to his ankle. It stinks...but that's not what catches her eye.

It's a Star-and-Crescent tattoo. It's tattooed in green ink. At this, she swallows hard. She, a member of a First Family, is wearing a rebel bikini...while on the toenail of a man who might be a Sunni Muslim...