It’s day three and I feel peculiar but not hungry. And the peculiar is in my head more than anywhere else. I am cast adrift from the rhythm of my normal life – the loving preparation of food, the meal table chat, the pleasure of it all. I miss that more than I miss the food, truth be told.
I am thinking my week detoxing before I arrived here was a good thing, although it felt like a bad bad thing at the time. The big crash has possibly maybe hopefully been avoided. Don’t feel sick. Don’t feel headachy. Don’t even feel hungry. Definitely feel empty though.
And I will never look at rasta dreds in the same way again as that’s what I’m accidentally spying in the toilet before I flush. The poo version of them obviously. I haven’t actually eaten anyone’s hair. I’m not hungry enough yet.