Listen! Can you hear ‘the friends’ out there, out there in the street? They are gathered there tonight, on this one night of the year, at this one hour of the early morning. They are calling, calling, calling. They are murmuring silently. They are calling without voices. They call without voices because the friends are solid things, solid things without tubes in their necks through which to speak. Their necks can neither take in air, nor let it out. All they can do is mill around on the street calling out in the only way they know to call. Calling silently out to those that can hear. The friends are dead and they want to play. The friends always want to play, and so they call out ceaselessly. Who will go to them? Who will heed their call? Who will go out to play with the friends?