The bus was just beginning to load.  Snow was still drifting in the shade, but the sun was doing its best to deteriorate the icy, hard packs.  The station was full of African men in used English clothing and shiny shoes.  They looked as if they were going to work at low-paid jobs in early 20^th century London.  The barrel-shaped women were smiling and talking and seemed like flowers in primary colors intent upon brightening the lives of children and other women.

He was the only white person around and he worshiped everything he saw.  For no good reason, he thought about the time he took off his shoes and pissed on an electric fence.  In his mind, he could see the psilocybin mushrooms growing in the cow shit as he urinated on the thin wire.  That feeling somehow tapped into another day, somewhere along a jungle border, when…