51. A Blank Wall Of Silence

The Obsessive Diary · Nov 8, 2025 · 3m

There’s a blank wall of silence in my mind when I try and think back, to capture the essence of what it was like to live and work with a boy from Kent who called himself a shaman, who’s still out there, working. I’m exhausted by it. I don’t know where to start. Is it enough to say that we ran sweat lodges every three weeks, hordes of naked crying people crawling in and out of a pitch-dark dome in the mud while he intoned and chanted and spat water, hot rocks hissing? How we stood about afterwards, flushed and confused eating baked potatoes. The hauling of those heavy blankets onto strings in…