It is a new day, and the journey that began with a quiet "phew" has unfolded. I opened a window to hear the morning, a motorbike a small, quick echo on North Street as I sat above the road. The sun rose, and it was orange, pouring from a break in the clouds. I baked sweet peppers and a marrow, a sprinkle of tajin, a grind of black pepper, and extra virgin olive oil. I left the poppy seeds, jam sugar, and cider vinegar in liquor to wait until I return. From my cell, I watched the sun move south, knowing I would soon have to move my sofa to keep it in sight. I reminded myself that I am as old as the universe, a truth of the Unity Theory. I reflected on the post-war ethos, on the bankruptcy of Britain, and the setting of the British Empire's sun, and the rising of a new one. I clipped alcoholism on Tuesday a week ago, and yesterday I took the clippers to my head, a brave act of transformation. I don't feel bad. With the kitchen tidy and my outfit on, I ate my leftovers f...
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