The tortoises, Lenin and Rosa, may have escaped. The double gates to the garden were found open at 4pm having been checked as closed when lunch was ready. Hosing the entire garden may have done wonders for the plants, but no furious tortoises dripped out of the undergrowth.
A close inspection of the piazza, under all the cars, and the nearest open garden yielded no trace of the Revolution. While I do not fear for their safety, I do fear for their souls. They will be Benedict and Maria in the blink of an eye. We must find them.
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