It was about seven years br after her breakdown br which she could not remember, and br which I could not forget br that one day br as I was creaming and powdering her br more intimately than I ever expected to as a man to his mother, br she turned to me and said - br inching her way br with supreme heroic human effort br out of the black and midnight subsoil maze br of dementia - said br carefully, enquiringly br as if to establish a relevant fact, br br 'Are we related? ' br br And I knew not how to answer... br br Then after some few days br I found a way to ease that pain: br as I creamed and powdered br the soreness under her still fine womanly breasts br at a hundred and two years of age br I said quietly br to her uncomprehending memory, br 'beloved stranger...' br br it wasn't a joke that she could share, but br it helped a little.