"That's Ivor," said Gladys, the old lady I was visiting in the care home. "He used to be a physicist, Martha died 15 years ago."
Some people in the living room of the opulent home were napping, others staring into space, remembering happier times now light years away.
A nurse came over and spoke to Ivor as if he were a little child, of course mentally he had re-entered infancy. How tragic life can become, I mused.
I was relieved to escape from the home but the image of that confused man remains in my memory.