The flight of stairs up to the ground level brought his first awareness of noise: the metal opener inserted in the lock. Unusual, but eminently simple and successful, it allowed him access to the courtyard, then four steps to the Spanish apartment. He opened the door and the faded heat of the day seemed a memory clinging to the curtains across the window. Backpack and white gloss shopping bag were placed inside the door. Lamplight only, a ‘no’ to the overhead option. Then his eyes fell on his intention. The paper bag containing the medical marijuana that would now take him out of the anxiety state, delaying the paranoia, at least until the morning light when he could handle it a little better. Not a lot better, but somehow the options in life became more apparent, more optimistic, in the day. At least other people seemed to be getting on with it, so there was a hope. A possibility that it was all possible.

*

His life had become, at this point, a Q&A, with himself and whoever was around to listen.

To satisfy the need, his need. It was real what had happened. It was true. That much was known. What was it in him that drove him to ask the questions all the time, why couldn’t he get on with it?

Like everybody else?

But how many other people had decided to do what he was going to do?

Not many, he supposed.

But then it was because he had never felt human, never felt the need to construct like the rest, always waiting for the thing to happen that would take him out of life’s systematisation, the process that he was going through.

Life was going to be different for him, from now on, that’s what he wanted, why else had he come? And if it wasn’t going to be different then he would make it different by his own devices. His own determination. His own action. That defines it: an action, the ability to do an act.

Here he was, living in his own cinematic experience but holding an objective viewer’s eye on all his activity. Ever had done this since he was a child, though he didn’t know then that everybody else didn’t do it; now it was the only way he could turn his life around.

*

Enter the movie from the left, walk straight in and become him. Grasp the role.

He would welcome the sight of himself in this as yet unwritten movie. At least he hoped he would, and he was prepared, if needed, to involve himself in other people’s lives uninvited.

Not to harm but to engage, to connect.

He must watch, observe, and make himself invaluable to this end.

To change his life through another.

A parasitic involvement: an osmotic method of dependency.

Because he had always needed help: this time was no different.

Just a new script.

Chapter Three

Rodeo Drive.