Very vaguely now, most softly lit the topiary hedge. Twilight shapes against the sky raking delicate greys and glows orange red and sadder blue. The shapes, they had watched the all afternoon long, they knew to be leaves and branches. Outsized leaves and branches, you understand. Two branches to each of the four hedges. Rectangular field. Two longer sides, to sets of longer branches. Two shorted sides, two pairs of shorter branches. Each two arranged crossed, each branch two thirds length of hedge. Broken ends crossed. Furthermost tips reaching the corners of the field. In each corner a tall and handsome tree. You understand, the leaves and branches topiary, the trees natural. The light gone now save for silver moon. Roll along silvery moon, the old man began to sing. Guide the traveler on his way. As the nightingale sings its sweet tune. The nightingale had already been singing and it was that which had called forth the old song to which this was the refrain. Finishing, there’s no time so sweet as when true lovers meet by the bright silvery light of the moon. The boy nudged him in the ribs. But remember he only thinks it’s a boy. They don’t call him Fishface or Fuckface for nothing. This is the one with the monkey. An monkeys, whether or not they can sit still for a long time and look like they are paying attention, love to climb trees. This one obviously likes to climb them in the dark because with that poke he, being as you recall a biped and therefore not normal monkey, sprinted over to the the left hand corner facing them and shimmied up the tree. A coconut palm, in this case, for all the trees were different. Up he went legs and arms around the trunk and disappeared into the top knot of leaves. Moments later out of the black whistled a coconut. Smashed at a rock at the old man’s feet. He let out a pathetic agh! and fainted. Lunatic monkey applause from the tree.