You've seen them; skittering through the streets, down alleys and aisles, rifling through garbage, stealing your meals. Some of you may keep a few close and comfortable, while the rest of you seek out the nearest shoe to run them off, or run them through.
You have a name for them, be it vermin, pest, darling or pet, and that is what this [i] Azur [/i] issue Oh Nine is all about: the melancholy minuscule, the dreary dearies of the gutter, and how they have risen above their stature to become walking installations.
No longer is he the spotted little twink we found sleeping in a wig. He is now Emilio, new to the scene, fiery, outrageous, a born superstar.
Or Chauntel, the dazzling songbird with a limp to her gait, who nearly lost her wretched little life bound and stuffed in an old sock off the highway. She would have been left and lost had she not let fly her captivating voice with the last of her strength. We call that [i] initiative. [/i]
Above all - The hairless hound, Ramona, vogue made flesh, and she is eager, dear reader, eager to be something, to represent an ideal, to create.
Their little hearts are all so filled with wonder, and there is no more compelling a shadow to erect than that of the smallest measure of man. So marvel at the meager, revere the weak, and before you exercise your foot's privilege to bear down on the diminutive, consider that they may yet qualify to be the world's next [b] superstar. [/b]