Katerina Wolanski is from London, about fifty, tall, slim, and dressed entirely in black. She embraces me in greeting, kissing each cheek—the left twice. She smells like gardenias. Dr. Briton Ibe is from Somalia. He’s small, walks with a limp, and wears a bright yellow puffer jacket and a Cossack hat. His smile is broad and easy, his teeth incandescently white. I like them both immediately.
