A mixture of bad luck and stupidity left Lion in a paranoid panic on the bathroom floor. The newspapers told all these black and white, eventually fading to yellow stories of AIDS, kidnap and rape, and Lion looked and smelt no different from these paper people. He had a nose like them and two eyes like them, he have a smile like them and made mistakes like them. He felt 2D and flimsy like them, and he was sure that just like the many, if he set fire to himself, he would burn. He recalled slowly, the story of the staring tea, a drink you stir and see things differently, looking forward, forth and out, you see yourself 10 years from now. Your eyes roll back inside your head, your iris trickles down your neck, you see, you see a heaven or heck, in the staring tea.