Once upon a time he'd been granted political asylum by Rose Mary Boehm

Diaspora equals tiredness, a fatigue of tight shoes chafing, the latent exhaustion of filling crucibles with curses. The anacoluthon of struggle. Perhaps we did. Apophasis. He had no intention of talking about pharisaic canticles or fiducial point failures. Beatitude does not admit hubris, but his lodestar lay fallow. Her billets-doux yellowed in the antique ivory chest. A ramose tree almost covered the small window of his hideout. He was used to his exclusion. Feared nothing more than talking to Mrs Dugwort about Sunday lunch.

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