As she started to eat, she realized that she hadn't eaten all day. She was famished. Glancing over her shoulder to see if the innkeeper was watching, ...he sat down and hurriedly wolfed her food down. They only exchanged smiles and looks as they devoured the food."Good food," the young man finally grinned, running the last piece of the crusty bread around his plate soaking up the red juice of the meat.Then with a flourish, he threw his head back and dropped the dripping chunk of bread into his. By tacit agreement, we did not discuss the death of Mickey the Mouth or any other of the day's events. It was still all there, though, a spectre at the feast. I think we were all too worn down by the experience of living inside an enigma to face it yet again. Angela decided that she would honour her intention stated when we first met. She would 'do' Trotsky. A completely naturalistic piece, she promised. No tortured soul clawing its way through the twisted bronze. She threatened to do the twins. More

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