Yesterday, before lunch, I was elevated from my bed and slid into my wheelchair. My two new best friends, Miss S, the woman with the shiny blue-green hair, and
the Maestro, the film producer and director, gathered at door of my room for a trip out.
They had arranged for someone equipped with the necessary two legs to push me to the bar of the clinic where the three of us would have a view of the hospital garden and some sheep on the hill in the distance.
At the cafe we had cappuccino and cake. As patients tend to, we discussed the various drugs we ingest every day; whether they are useful or not and how to get more of them according to our needs.
The Maestro has taken peyote in Mexico, according to the ceremony. He has tripped out in Nepal. I am very keen that Isabella knows that I am capable of making new friends.
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