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... and when rentfree Fu Manchu finally established his realm, it beggared the mind. Who are these troops aligned on the mountain ridge bordering the snow field, tending toward downcast? What are hordes in favour of? When does a poem rise? Do they even read in the wind?
Fu Manchu, that is a tyrant anywhere, presents a poem on the spot. The spot loses all geography, like Nepal and Tibet. The idea behind the spot that says it is a poem seems to fail. It needs a look. We aren't afraid. The English stand for 'something'. Sir Denis Nayland-Smith knows arch enemies when he sees them. Dr Petrie smokes out the last bumbling evidence. The east came west with as much as can be pretended. After that, something carefully idyllic: Sir Denis smoking his pipe.
