and so it came to pass that this wonderful year, passed in dolce far niente and innocent love inebriation, ended abruptly with first the bitter altercation under the honeysuckle, then, cheeks still burning, but this time from a little too much imbibed, with barbiturates joining the free festival in my head through a hole in the fence, and finally with my inevitable collapse and subsequent sound slumber, half-in, half-out of a ditch, part-way to blackalls farm, somewhere i had never before, and have never after, felt interested in visiting. the confused dreams which proceeded to hurry through my wondering mind left a lasting impression of extraordinary vividity, but not of any specific details, so much so that after six cigarettes' worth (rolled with distinctly soggy old holborn, a quality my wanderings have since caused me to become familiar with, as a result of a similar familiarity with sleeping in ditches) of determined pondering, the best whole which i was able to construct from the few indistinct recollections haunting my consciousness, was a disturbing feeling of having been a participant in a game, breaking its most fundamental rule, and paying the price for my actions.
