I have been waiting in this chill ravine for what seems somewhere between one and three millennia for to receive a picture of myself. My glorious facial hair goes unrealized, and my false sepia toned countenance goes yet unseen. I can only imagine what a fright I must appear, because i have no picture on which to gaze and confirm my frightful countenance.
Tragically, the small birds and woodland creatures I have commissioned to immortalize my visage have all died of the cold and exposure, and I was forced to devour them post haste. They were delicious.
Yours, in non-actualized existantuatiy,
General Horatio Cornburns
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