I tramped through a lonely wood. Cold, dispirited and tired. Cigarette packages and rotting food, discarded shoes and pieces of furniture were lined around the place. The remnants of a once-pristine snow hung around in patches, now blackened, sooty and tainted.

My eye was caught by a metal box, rusted with traces of faded writing on it I couldn’t make out…

I am in my old white Toyota Tercel which I sold nigh onto 20 years ago. It was a faithful and true automobile with the one exception-it went through clutches rapidly. (No I do not ride my clutch whatever you have heard--I adamantly refute that I am a clutch rider). I am dressed inexplicably in a gray t shirt and some millimeters pair of pants. No coat in spite of the fact that snow is in patches on the road…