An old and huge baobab tree grows in the middle of Medis flat, the roots must reach below into the Iranian takeaway below, though I've not noticed them before from the outside.
I am sitting against the bottom of the centuries old tree observing the Aztec patterns that all carpets hold for me. The large glass of coke I just drank to rehydrate from the ecstacy must in fact have been another 75 shroom brew, because my friend wants to know what happened to his. Ooops:) I am aging rapidly, my skin wrinkles and crags until it resembles the bark of the tree. I must be about one hundred and twenty years old now, though mentally I am still sharp, and if I wanted to run I'm sure I could. The Aztec carpet has gone (replaced by a forest clearing) along with the rest of the small flat which a few minutes ago contained just four people, some decks, and very loud techno. Now as I look around I am circled by trees, all with wee huts and houses linked by crude ramps. There is plenty of activity, like cooking, building etc. and loads of kids playing and runnning about the site. Instinctively I know that the people I see are my children, grandchildren, greatgrandchildren... I set up this little tribe ninety years ago and started the building project with bits and bobs I scavenged myself. No one notices me sitting under the central tree, but they all know I am there and I feel immensely happy in my heart smiling a toothless grin.
When the flat returns, I write "let love of life be my death" on a scrap of paper. A friend crosses out "death" and writes "birth" then kisses me. I fall head over heels in love and spend the rest of the night trying to catch a moth that floats from streetlamp to streetlamp.