Inevitably the rumour spills forth and shatters; tactlessly, tastelessly, gracelessly. It falls, like a breaking crystal throwing refracted rainbow light; it falls, like the baubles that tumble when a Christmas tree falls; it falls, like a ruined, leaking house of glass. And the stone throwers will be homeless in the streets, but replete with the power of their words. The birds will sing no more for want of a tree, lack of a home. Yet the hornets return to nests once left vacant.