He has a dream. A friend tells him to be less logical and more experimental. To see a bit more magic in other people. So, he should let his manager fuck his ass. His manager, a small, middle-aged gay Irish man, with a bright red face. As he feels the ejaculate squirt into his anus, he turns his head a little, looks back along his own naked, grotesque kneeling body, to see there a small, middle-aged frame juddering away, and a contorted look of sickly pleasure spreading over the boiling, lobster-like features of a face.

How do I know this? you ask. Weren't you knuckled firmly into a carpet at the time? Yes: but his eyes told me, his memory told me, his hope told me. They say: "Understand what this dream means. Mediocre philosophies will not help you. Respect for work will not help you. See what this does to you, fist, know what this does to you."