To London.

And so I banged the drum and led my gang into their first ritual. I led them out into the garden and one by one they threw the past into the fire. And as they named themselves and their good riddance I watched the birds fidgeting in the trees, as if disturbed at our solemnity. After, I gave the group an hour of silence. This is always the best of times. As they hovered between their imagined pasts and their unlikely futures, I roamed among them like a god, savouring their liminality and horny as a goat.