Waiting to be interviewed by Immigration, Lyneth felt much like a wren hiding fearfully in the woods on the night before the Feast of the Epiphany, a night that surely had a name but in this moment eluded her. Back home, the rowdy boys presented the captured bird shivering inside its cage, demanding food and drink. Like the wren, she was exposed. On display. With her marginally convincing photographs, her “wedding album” patently fabricated, Lyneth, without even one rowdy boy by her side, waited for the fun to begin. But first she had to present the remnants of a party that never was to a hardened team of gatekeepers who had probably seen it all before. And so she tried to hide her fearful eagerness and a readiness to take flight.