When he comes for you, you will be drinking tea at a stall beside a busy road. He is without distinction, unrecognisable, a small knife in his hand. Looking into his empty blue eyes you will drop your hot black tea and yet, you will still not recognise him as your killer even as he steps towards you. And your final moments will be a feeling, a hankering for the tea spread out across the sandy soil. A hunger for sensation and life. And then it’s done, your final breath in the sand beside a busy road.