wailing widows in mother teresa faces gurn and grimace in the hot night's sun, never ending heat burning the soles of the feet on the sticky hot tar pavements.  ink bleeds as do feet and birds when shot from the sky with a feather quilled arrow, pen, knife, bird all dead in one go what a nice guy.  twinkling onwards to a bitter end at the icecream van which sells happiness and ecstasy to its followers. lollies and class a drugs smiling, both make a smile