When the mind is at rest the body shouts its demands. Furo Wariboko, back on the streets of Lagos, now realised how hungry he was. Weak with it, his head aching, stomach juices churning, his breath reeking with it. He considered his options. He had eight hundred naira left from the money he’d borrowed from Ekemini, and that amount would just about cover a meal at Mr Biggs, the cheapest of the fast food chains. But he was reluctant to spend everything. Thus far he had refused to spoil his happy mood by thinking about where next to go, where to sleep tonight, but somewhere behind the wall of his mind he knew there was no going back.