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Green grass raffaella barker7/6/2023 ![]() What a talent,’ he chortles, slapping Inigo on the back with a broad, well-manicured hand. Manfred, an art collector who flew in this evening from Munich to dine with Laura and Inigo, claps his hands and laughs out loud. Laura has of course seen it all before, but she knows better than to roll her eyes and sigh instead she beckons the circling waitress and whispers instructions. He flexes his fingers and balances a cigarette packet on one corner, then flashes a grin at his audience. His watch glitters and beeps, becoming a green screen for a second. ![]() The trick is finding it.’ Inigo pushes back the sleeves of his shirt. ![]() ‘Everything has a point from which it can balance. Laura is grateful that Inigo does not demonstrate spoon balancing, but instead contents himself with arranging all the glasses and cutlery on the table into a gleaming circuit, with fork following knife following spoon, each one balanced on the rim of a glass. ![]()
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