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Sometimes, in the shower, I close my eyes real tight. I forget I'm in a run down concrete mess of a post industrial English town. I forget there's a Fatwa issued against me by one of my housemates here, and the few people who still speak to me ask me questions like "how's the ostracization going?" I let it all slip away, feeling only the water on my skin.

And in that instant I'm showering in the basement of an apartment block in New York City.

Sometimes in bed, if I focus real hard, my double mattress duvet and pillows disappear. Now I'm on a bottom bunk in a room with 11 others, snoring and turning. I sleep on a pillow and blanket set liberated from a Delta flight.

And sometimes when I feel the sun on my back, or warmth on my skin, I like to pretend that's the sun beating down on my as I sit or lie on the sidewalk outside of our building, always with someone else; talking or smoking or playing cards.

But all good things must come to an end.

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