The Victoria and Albert Museum. A tube ride to ringside seats for art, instruments, and fashion. I found a carved wooden statue of Death amongst the 4 million exhibits. Portrayed as an archer instead of the cloaked reaper, his quiver is full, and he jaunts one foot forward, holds his bow carelessly, waiting to taunt. His smile is an illusion; emotion rips off a skull with its skin, so it seems to smile because it can do nothing else.
I stop into Marks & Spencers for ingredients for dinner and hear my name. I turn around just for kicks and find Sareeta, a girl I went to school with in Jakarta, holding a basket by the produce aisle. We haven't seen each other in fifteen years.
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