He hung vaguely for a moment as she passed. He touched her breast as if he was testing the waters of a cold lake. He noticed the two chairs close together. Anna was still holding her cigarette between her fingers. A simple wooden monument was placed over the grave, but without any name or date. “This is all rot!” he declared angrily. ‘Gammon. People were not slaves to their gods as they are now, oppressed and unhappy, chained to their mortality and suffering so that they may one day enter an imaginary Heaven. You shall lie upon your back; your head shall be covered; and your feet shall be bare.
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