The sound of laughter he used to raise himself, ringing, or stinging, in his ears, he joins the steady throng of expectant punters, over cobblestones, from one show to the next big thing everyone will be talking about south of the border (perhaps forgotten by the following spring).
He weighs the same as a moderately sized chandelier these days, he reckons, With or without shades, no one recognises him. Were he to set himself alight in the middle of the market square, would anyone rush to put him out? A joke in there, somewhere. If only he could find it.
He weighs the same as a moderately sized chandelier these days, he reckons, With or without shades, no one recognises him. Were he to set himself alight in the middle of the market square, would anyone rush to put him out? A joke in there, somewhere. If only he could find it.
