They appeared in the vestibule wearing there dark burquas, these three women, when I was just only born. When they moved into the house next to my childhood they tried to seduce my oldest brother. One skinny, one fat, one Mother. In my mid-life crises they stood on the street corner in long black robes protesting the end of the world. Now that my beard is gray and my hair half gone they wait for me with arms outstretched, wading in the primordial soup.