Gods and monsters. Her gaze drifts to the Roman syncretist bubbles in that portion of the wall given over to Hunter’s narratives. Athenais dreamed a room of lies which came true, and a man died. Was sacrificed. Death setting everything in motion. She lingers, and the constant pressure of her eyes on the topic loosens the bonds between items, each becoming its own centre of annotated, projected meaning and possible subtext. Dislocated words drift on the plaster like dandelion seeds. Not sacrificed: torn. Everything is torn.