The boy Harry was the brightest thing you'd ever hope to see. May looked young enough to be his baby sister on the beach. He was Ptolemy's Earth to her. For a while they knew how it might be to conquer all the world. Then they grew old, growing tired and tongue-tied, he stopped coming home. She had no-one to call her own. She waited for a moment. Their first baby only fell asleep under the moving trees. He was Ptolemy's Earth to her. Harry gave her too many faces, too many dark places. She gave him a boy that was his and a boy that was not his. Weary now and wearing out they tore each other's heart out, they ripped each other apart. Say he'd waited there for a moment then pushed him back to the sea. They sold up and moved on Sunday morning father made of stone. Alexander stopped here.