Sometimes important people fall into our orbit, we're never quite sure why. They come with us to the pub to escape it all, and we order them plate after plate of Cumberland sausages. 'Look at them all', says W., 'I hope you're hungry'.
We invariably try to convince our guest that everyone hates the three of us. – 'They hate us!' – 'I hope they don't hate me', said one guest. - 'They hate us and they hate you', we tell our guest. 'Especially you. Everyone round here. All of us. Even we hate you, and we don't hate anyone'.
That night, wandering back, we got lost in the fog, the three of us. – 'Where are we going?' – 'We'll never get out of here', we told the speaker. 'You'll be trapped forever with us, going round and round'. I asked W. to narrate his recurring dream to help us pass the time. After, W. asked our guest whether he had any recurring dreams. And then, 'What's your favourite colour?'
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