As soon as I turned the key I saw it hanging, the color of fire and sunset. the colour of flamboyant flowers. ‘If you are buried under a flamboyant tree, ‘ I said, ‘your soul is lifted up when it flowers. Everyone wants that.’ She shook her head but she did not move or touch me.

I want more of this feeling - fire and wings.

Quite like old times,' the room says.

Age seldom arrives smoothly or quickly. It's more often a succession of jerks.

And what does anyone know about traitors, or why Judas did what he did?

I have tried," I said, "but he does not believe me. It is too late for that now" (it is always too late for truth, I thought).

If all good, respectable people had one face, I'd spit in it.