It was the end of the world. After all he’d been through, he wasn’t even sure whether that story was a memory or an image he created in his head. Today, other than elusive memories, he only had his cat ‘square’ and his cane. Sometimes he remembered it as being the child, dancing to the clapping and singing of the town folk; sometimes he’s one of the town folk, singing and clapping to the dancing child. “Look at how Nando dances!” was uttered by the people in regular intervals, in a very strong Roman accent. The land was desolated, and it had been for years and years. For generations that was all they knew. It was the end of the world, and Nando, lost in a joyful daze and without a care in the world or doubt, danced.