Being conceived is like you are in a car driven by the father...faster, faster, faster..onlythis time it is Mother who was driving when we crashed and in the time it took the hydraulic brakes to take hold, I had written out two hundred images...poetic images yet. But I know it was only two pages and that is the way people talk here. they exaggerate by a hundred, like putting bigger numbers on the money.
Then I'm in a room with Ian who looks all pink and red...a beautiful terra-cotta color...and these phantoms keep coming in, look like people but are just as fraudulent and if you shove them they disappear.
Quite a number of them came.
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