Wylde Scott was born on a mountain top, somewhere between the beginning of time and the clock's bell last night. His father was the stars and his mother the wind, they say he began with a mischievous grin. He was raised by a band of gypsies who taught him to sing and laugh and play and dance and walk and skip on the palm of his hands. He has lived and traveled all over all over the world, from Shanghai and Kalamazoo, to Bangkok and Timbuktu, and still has a house on the bright side of the moon. He is a Sultan and Matador, and Knight through and through, but mostly he loves telling stories to wide eyed, big dreaming, belly giggling children like you.