His former form was without weight of substance. He sits stock still in his seat, back straight, eyes closed, hands spread palms down on the table before him. He has become a statue. This all seems so unreal, like a dream. I feel like I'm not here. If I reached out to touch him, I'm sure his image would vanish as quickly as he appeared. I watch the abandoned Battersea Power station drift by and remember my dream at turning it into a huge hotel-club for goths, gays, ponces and anyone else I deem worthy. It would be lovely. The sky is clouded over.In Victoria I start to worry. The bustle and rush seems to be everywhere but us. The crowd parts and splits without anyone noticing, giving us our own personal space. Are we still real? Have I died?"Wait!" I stop and someone collide with me, almost knocking me to the floor. Shamani turns to look at me, a bundle of limbs, picking myself up and brushing the dust off my jeans. People still part around him like a pebble in a stream."Are you real?. ..Daddy, got any liquor?" I said, "Are you old enough to drink, little one?" "Forget that shit, " she said, "got any? And I'm almost nineteen." "You may have a soda or a bottle of water, I have no liquor for little girls." She plopped down on the couch and crossed her arms with a big pout on her face and said, "How 'bout a beer 'Daddy?'" She said this with emphasis on the Daddy. "Nope. Soda or water, what'll it be?" "Gimme a Coke,” she said. “Not when you ask like that,” I said. “Gimme a Coke, 'Daddy.'" she said, again with the disdain on the Daddy part. "Looks like we're going to have to teach you some manners, little girl." "Hey, I ain't into no weird shit, man. I don't mind a little slap on the ass while you're fuckin' me, but I ain't into no punishment shit." "All I wanted was for you to say please, baby, that's all. Don't get all huffy." I retrieved a soda and opened it for her. "Thank you, Daddy, " she said in a contrite way. "You can stop that mocking tone, too, little one.".
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