Ash on an old man’s sleeve
Is all the ash the burnt roses leave.
Dust in the air suspended
Marks the place where a story ended.
Dust inbreathed was a house –
The wall, the wainscot and the mouse.
The death of hope and despair,
This is the death of air
T S Eliot. Four Quartets Little Gidding
Gert is feeling rather melancholy after a performance of Krapps last Tape.