If Temmins learned the man’s name, how long could it be before Temmins knew everything else about the man? No man was an island. They each had their breaking point. And when the damn broke, it wasn’t long before everything came pouring out, often much more than you every wished to know, almost as if all secrets had to be confessed. All secret shames. Disgusting really.

And invigorating.

But Temmins was glad he hadn’t quite reached this man’s breaking point. Yes, such an impressive specimen. Temmins tweaked another bamboo stalk and poured in more salt. Such joys, such simple pleasures.