’ ‘What name would you like, then?’ Her shadowed features turned in his direction. “The horse’s knees are broken, and I am not sure that the man is sober. Little things, almost impalpable, had happened to justify that doubt; something in his manner had belied his words. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. She shuddered as his naked body pressed against her. When younger, and in better health, she must have been eminently lovely; and there were still the remains of great beauty about her. She paced restlessly to the door and back again, biting her tongue on the hot words begging to be uttered. "Why do you laugh?" he asked. Still, one never could tell. It reminded her of one of the old tales her mother Marina had told her about a sculptor named Farhat. They walked in silence. Sampans with fish and fruit and vegetables swarmed about, while overhead gulls wheeled and swooped and circled.
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