To London.

And so on this, our last day, I led my gang into the realm of the transpersonal. Having taken them to the sewers and back, we now throw open the windows and spray a little freshener. I loathe this part and and even now I feel murderous when, spoken with a certain inflection, the word 'spiritual' is used. Nevertheless, I guided them through the visualisations while Eve, alas, was delegated the role of talking them through the mulch that arose. And that was that. A couple of lonely delusionals now felt they could go forth and heal the world, while it is always the masculine, shaking their heads and unable to articulate, who have been most profoundly moved and yet we never hear of that. The feminine, it seems, is innately transpersonal. And it was with this observation that I smoked a cigarette with them in the garden, answered questions, said goodbyes, and watched as all the self-deceptions slowly reassembled themselves and almost cried for a better life, a better world, for my son.