2067

"You do remember that we came to your door the day before, just after dinner?"  says Kenny. "Yes, it's kind of inserted now.  We were just on our way to the car to rescue Erik from his hotel quarantine.    I must have blanked it out.  You see, Kenny, I still believed you were dead." "At least you let me give you a hug.  Shall we get moving?" "Yes, let's."  And now it is coming back to me slowly, very slowly, but like a sequence of very obscure dreams.  Yes, there was Kenny, at the door, with a fiftiesh woman I had never seen before, and though he is about to turn sixty, he still looks mostly the same.  A bit heavier around the middle, hair somewhat thinner and greyer, but face remarkably well preserved.  And in every other way he is the brilliant riotously campy queen I once knew and loved.  A room full of people, people I know, all seated in a beautiful elegant salon in a mansion or palace.  and at the centre, a teenage boy, beautiful, wearing a simple collarless white shirt and faded blue jeans.  rather bushy longish hair, a bronze blond colour and shimmery kind of, and penetrating jade green eyes.... "Can we stop at the outhouse", says Kenny, "I badly need to tinkle." At the brown painted outhouse by Chancellor boulevard, there is a bench, and seated on it a tall woman, with long straight blond hair  She is dressed all in black.  She is staring at her phone.  For some reason, I walk over and join her, without asking permission...