Maybe Sartre or Beckett or Camus or Kafka - maybe not, in any case disgust and nightmare. The arrival of a “company” at a cryptic place. The pleasures of a dinner-party where a stranger is invited, then thrown out and agonized. Glimpse of stars, having eaten the dog’s ear or was it the whole dog? Almost a dance in the reign of the dead. There’s no getting away with murder. The slavery of the night will - maybe - end with a requiem the next bloody morning. Shadows are governing.