We are living the past in a cottage full of things. Strange paraphernalia. Pictures from Hollywood and forgotten silent movie stars, cabaret singers, dolls. We are living in the middle of the woods, we don't know for how long. We affect the world around us, when we make mistakes, but the we suspect, the real world has no effect on us. Apart from when the two collide. Just now a car crashed, down, down the hill it rolled, like the driver was aiming for the two women. I pulled them away just in time. Between the trees four startled, incomprehensing hikers stare at us.