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It is July 1793, just before the Terror.
  
Rose, an actress at the Theatre Nationale, recognizes Maurice, a former aristocrat who now makes a living doing puppet shows in the street. They met once at a picnic, and played …

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… to be sung
  
Oh you maddened machine
no your face isn’t clean
in the traffic soot breeze-
you’re a relic
  
And the dirt on your face
is a wilful disgrace
from an affluent blip
in aesthetics
  …

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“Cholera!” cried Lucy Gomball, doing a blue-jeaned, barefooted, pink-toed jig of excitement around her kitchen table.
“Cholera!” she cried again, her husky voice rising a pitch.
The test had proved positive.  Thousands of residents of the Kireba slum were at …

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They say, ‘Scratch a liberal, you’ll find a fascist’.
But scratch a fascist, you’ll find a communist;
scratch a communist, you’ll find an anarchist;
scratch an anarchist, you’ll find a feudalist;
scratch a feudalist, you’ll find a Roman Republican;
scratch …

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