On the pavement outside a cinema, I have just watched a documentary about a famous bespectacled Jewish film-maker. Another audience member is standing on the pavement. His hair is similarly tufty and he is wearing a shirt that is buttoned to the top but one. I ask my question. He seems wary, laughs half-heartedly and breathes. 'Emily', he replies after deliberation. 'I don't know if I believe you', I respond. He begins to walk away.
His companion, a girl with long and wavy hair with a red handbag over her shoulder, hangs back apologetically. 'Should I believe him?' I ask her. 'No', she replies edging away, 'but it's mine'. Her smile is sympathetic and she turns to catch up with her friend.
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