She never liked attention but here she is being photographed in her garden. She reaches out and her white arms are longer than I remember. Sections of metal beaten into petals of pearl lie on the grass. A mallet, the bit you do the thumping with, shaped like an egg. About the size of some prehistoric egg lying in sand waiting to hatch out some green-tailed monster with a pea-sized brain that can only compute killing. She wears black and her hair falls across her face, so maybe she hasn't changed that much.