Spiritually Incorrect Enlightenment ET2

I stayed in Essaouira where I read Paul Bowles, Cormac McCarthy, some Faulkner, and a book of Civil War letters aloud to myself. When I’d had enough of that, I went to Marrakech where I read Pullman, Rowling and Tolkien silently to myself.

“Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn’t go away,” I say.

He scoffs.

“What’s that, more poetry?”

“Philip K. Dick,” I say.

’m the turd in the punchbowl.

launching into a rant