The old man turned, and vanished.  Go to Macau, he chirped.  You will see me there and many more. . . .  Can't point to when Macau time began.  There were rival factions.  Foreigners first, then locals, then foreigners became the locals.  Then the locals temporarily submitted to new foreigners before chasing them out.  I mean the scene is green.  Sometimes very small war butterflies come swooping in squadrons through the brisk night air.  Stabbing.  It's easy to get the itch in Macau and they say the food is very good too.  Nobody was hurt.  Did you ever walk through a land and wonder what you were doing there?  Believe me, it did.  And the old man was there and he did flap like a bird and he lived in the junglepark.  I twisted just to the left and plotted a marvelous sprig of fancy.  But we got the photo for all to see.