Later, we share a bench with two retired NYPD officers eating platters of steak and a melon. One tells us about September the 11th, and finding corpses of firemen who had pocketed watches and jewellery from bodies, moments before dying themselves. I think of a mackerel I once gutted, to find two other mackerel in its stomach, still immaculately undigested. The other officer doesn’t say a word, just chomps, blandly.