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From Bucharest to A Press On My Nose

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“Today is Laughter Day in Bucharest and I am very religious. I am very religious and today, er, is Laughter Day in Bucharest. It must be nice for some of you sitting here watching. Not that I’m very religious, but that it’s Laughter Day. In Bucharest. Where I come from. Well no. I am from Funen…”

Timoteus Walnut turns into the driveway, parks the car and we get out. The garden smells of otter perfume. But it’s Walnut’s right shoe which is the main character in this section. He looks down at it. “Still there.” He turns his foot. “Still there.” The shoe clears it’s throat. “Still there.”

We stand on the cliff looking out over the ocean and the sea is looking back. The shoe is still the main character because now a larger assembly of hobbits have gathered around it. They sing. Walnut sighs. “Still there. Do you want a gin?” I decline. The shoe slips off. I rush after the shoe which darts off through the sand like a small dog. It circles and then returns to its owner. Walnut himself ties the laces. I cuddle him excitedly on his shoulder and he looks at me as if he would say: “The consistency is fabulous. It’s as it should be. The taste is spot on. Like an excellent biscuit. Some more pepper please. Wait. There. That’s enough. “He presses my nose with a finger. “Schtook!”