Let go. Strands of barbed wire cover the stone angels that had once custody over the land, rusty the former and moss-eaten the latter. It was a villa and now a park, locked, no one knows why. Somebody coughs, while the sun begins to shine through non-existent clouds and the murky glass of the window, and the puffs of smoke of some electronic cigarette – surprised passengers didn’t know it was allowed (“It probably isn’t!”) – there’s a funny sketch on a girl’s Youtube channel and she’s not aware of the man behind her sneezing without covering his nose, or of the Judy Dench lookalike who just got on. She looks around – she knows she resembles a celebrity – then takes her seat, waits. Nothing worse than a terrible impersonation, and she fits into the role splendidly. You can hear a round of applause from the girl’s earbuds, when JD gets up, off, and walks ahead into her ordinary day.