I was walking and looking at the flowers growing on the side of the pavement (“These silver bells and cockle shells”), while listening to Mary, Mary, So Contrary by Can. The scenery, the rhythm and the lyrics blended together, and I knew exactly what it meant. I was wandering consciousness, my body did not matter. The circling riff was the sole motion. I had the distance and the ownership.
The song was the most appropriate mental exercise: a misheard nursery rhyme, doubly misheard by me. I always thought Mary smoked her “haiku cigarette” instead of a “high cool cigarette”:
There is no earlier notice for the haiku cigarette ceremony. It starts with one, then two more join. They form a triangle and each person performs a line. The last participant writes the haiku down on rolling paper. The group smokes the haiku cigarette. Participants go in silence.
“We have to repeat five times” the ceremonial figure said. “No, three are enough!” I complained. He applied pressure right in the middle of my chest. With every push I lost the ability to breathe, a reverse first aid session. Something moved inside me. A tendon broke and stayed there, misaligned. I had an instant x-ray view of this mishap, then lost all senses except for hearing. I was terrified. There was a voice in the complete darkness. I called this dream my “heart chakra” dream.
I walked on the infinite extension of a balcony. The concrete path went over the city, towards the sunset.
I eat shapes 
this is beautiful !
it reminds me of this : I had a ritual with pagan friends : we would stand at a crossroads at night and share a cigarette and call on Hekate and then fall silent. it was often spontaneous late at night after parties. it was very raw and important for some reason. the gods left but the meaning and the rituals are still there.
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