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It started with the achingly hypnotic bedcover from the Istanbul Grand Bazaar. I can see it now . . .

I lounge across it inhaling some burning substance, the ceiling glittery with tiny lights, my hair streams long and wildly colored. Little shiny things sparkle in its tangles - I don't comb it for days. I fondle my numerous tattoos and begin to speak in an exotic but unidentifiable accent. My grandchildren adore me and wish to be like me when they grow up. Many wonderful ideas flow from the universe into my mind. I act on them all.