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Chapters (50)
  1. Cover
  2. VIOLET
  3. VIOLET
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. Contents
  7. Prologue
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35
  43. 36
  44. 37
  45. 38
  46. 39
  47. Epilogue
  48. Acknowledgements
  49. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  50. Copyright

Writing this from bed in a random town in Russia. It’s called Irkutsk and it’s where all those poor fuckers got exiled to about a hundred years ago. Apparently there’s a huge rate of depression and suicide in Siberia, and to be honest, from what I’ve seen so far it’s not much of a shocker. Not that I have seen much, as the taxi journey was absolutely mental and I had my eyes shut most of the time, thinking we were going to die. Then the driver tried to take us to a different hotel and I was sure it was a scam, but now I’m not sure as this place is a bit shit. The view out of the balcony is the wall of another building, and I’m sure I can hear the sounds of wolves pacing and growling outside. Do they have wolves here? I don’t actually know, but it’s all just a bit shady and I realise we should’ve just gone to the bloody LAKE that people insist on telling us about all the time…

Siiiiiiiggggghhhh.

Anyhoo, how are you? Did you get my message from the Gobi? I’ve got a LOT more to tell you about what went on out there, but I’m still trying to process it all myself. I had a reading (if that’s what they call it) from a shaman (yeah I know, I have now planted an earworm – ‘Move Any Mountain’ has been in my head ever since the word shaman was mentioned … and we did meet more than one, so I guess that means I have actually met the shamen … OK, not The Shamen. I wonder where they are now – do you think Mr C is still alive? I always fancied him in the 90s.

Fuck, I’m rambling. So we had some weird shit in the desert. Magic mushrooms in a pipe type shit. Some weird tea. I am ruined. Things went a bit mental with Violet, and then we were stuck on a train together for NINETY HOURS. But we survived … God. I’ll go into it later. I’m still knackered. She’s gone out somewhere – probably doing the bit of sightseeing that I’m not going to get round to, despite it being the entire reason for coming here and not the bloody lakes … but she did leave me a very nice breakfast: cheese and ham and bread and yogurt all wrapped up in a linen napkin.