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That was London. Things built on things built on things built on things, each in its turn forgotten about, but each somehow leaving a trace, if only a rush of water heard through a grating.
Reuben always said that there were two types of cook: the artist and the scientist. He was clearly the artist, flamboyant with improvisations, and she was the scientist, exact and a bit fussy, following every recipe to the letter.
