“What do you want to talk about?”“How about we start with that word you just said. What do you mean when you say my Essence?”“You know, your.....” she struggled to find the words. “The strength of your spiritual energy. Your power.”“My ... power,” he repeated in a dubious tone.“Yes, of course.” She reached out with a hand toward his arm and hesitated. “May I, um ... touch you?”“I don’t see the harm,” he replied, more curious than concerned.Karen laid her fingers on his arm, then slid her hand. I wanted to change more, faster, broaden my horizons. I went into the bad flat to confront the floor but its passively malevolent plastic shit-brown-squared self-satisfied ugliness defeated me. I staggered out, shaken. This was a floor which detested everything more complicated than moronic game-shows on TV. A floor that hated everything that was new or different. It certainly hated me and it was mutual. It was racist, too. And Christian in that way which was all -ian and no Christ. I could of. More

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