Ornamental garden framed on three sides by an intricate mosaic encrusted village that threads the edge of an enormous dark briar tangled gorge. Far down below the little specks of river mark the border. By old flowering trees and alcove nests groups of engrossed musicians prepare for next month’s lunar festival. Children are launching bright fertility kites. Floating melodic confetti ribbons penetrate the intervening void. Dumb iconoclastic blockhouse turns its back. The sky above glowers and grumbles.

Hidden till nightfall in some vacant kennel old Fishface cocks an ear entranced. Fervently he is praying to his last remaining icon.