i find myself skulking around having a furtive puff puff puff behind the camouflaged cabine that mari and raphaël recently built in the back of the garden. this fort overlooks a dilapidated tennis court in the parc baby doc once owned & roamed. his swimming pool long ago filled in. i'm not waving. sheep are there today. it's cloudy. electric. i imagine tiger print bikini clad dictator groupie bathing beauties brandishing diamond cigarette holders now disappeared or languishing in belgian nursing homes frantically signaling disinterested nurses as their O2 tanks run out.