What I discovered, however, was that his furtive fumblings and obvious self-gratification in the confessional were almost absent unless I was ‘confe...sing’ about young men, and slowly the truth opened its wide jaws; Father Oliver was fantasising about cocks, rather than the nubile, playful sixteen year old who was lying her heart out about them. I wasn’t in any way disappointed, although the discovery of this kernel of reality precipitated phase two. This particular phase demanded the exercise. I alwayssaid something stupid and it was embarrassing to hear from others howdumb I was. I usually looked down at my feet while we walked. I wonderedhow my brain could remember to put one leg in front of the other. How dowe remember to walk?Then I saw a flower. It didn't know what it was called. It had blue belllike flowers on it. Jenny and her friend didn't notice the flower. Theynearly stepped on it. That got my brain working again. Do flowers feelpain if we stand on them? I didn't know the. More

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