To London.

The needle insert, releasing me from empathy and projection, served me well and I arrived at the station with nothing less than the love of god inside me. And so I took my gang into their shadow selves and watched as they howled and hissed like animals in the half light. Of course, there are always a few who enact what they'd like their shadow to be, rather than what it actually is, and these are always those who have been in therapy the longest. I also suspect that these delusionals have the most erratic sex lives and for this reason I kept a particluar eye on the lithe and tight figure of S. At the break, tunnelling into their liminal silences, I saw S. in the garden, smoking furiously, and imagining myself her cigarette, felt the suction of her mouth upon my dick. When the shadow is so hidden, how tempting abasement.