He carries, at all times, a beautiful modern edition of The Art of War, which he reads during the break.
He asks me if I know Little Britain, and shows me a picture of the year he dressed up as Daffyd, the only Iranian gay in the village.
There was a thing by her in the turbine hall of Tate Modern a few years ago, enormous, black, metal spiders. Horrible.
I notice a couple on a third floor balcony of the Royal Beach having sex. We watch the distant, bobbing figures for a while.
My mother’s in hospital to have a toe removed. Is the operation called a toe-ectomy? A toe job?
I ask if there’s anything that connects us, the new immigrants. ‘We didn’t fit in at home?’ says Megan, in that way that makes statements sound like questions.
The man said, ‘I hate Jews.’ Alvin said ‘Ok’, and continued showing the property…