The impressario stroked the nose of a leopard with his whip as it twisted like a mime, growling.

"What's the name?" the mayor asked.

"Aristotle."

"I mean the woman," the mayor explained.

"Oh," the impressario said, "We call her Casandra, Mirror of the Future."

The mayor put on a desolate expression.

"I'd like to go to bed with her." he said.

"Everything is possible," said the impressario.

Insomnia is not so bad when I find an old, unread, Garcia Marquez novel.