Get back to Cambodia, that’s what I need to do.
That’s the task ahead of me.
That’s my goal.
My hero’s journey.
That’s the task Mr. Fox has set for me.
I thought 3 months homeless plus however long they were filming me for before- maybe as long as a year – I thought that was more than enough footage for their reality live cinema James Bond.
I walk across the Heathrow car park back towards the bus station.
Tis bitter cold.
The wind bites shrewdly.
Evidently I still have The Road Home.
Stage 11 in Joseph Campbell’s The Hero’s Journey.
Stage 12, of course, is Sharing The Elixir.
But what is my Elixir?
My prize, my moral lesson, the wisdom I can now take home and share with my family and friends?
What family and friends?
They’ve all disowned me.
Me – the Christian missionary.
How the fuk did I end up a homeless, penniless crystal meth-addicted junkie – left to rot and die on the pitiless streets of Phnom Penh?
What the fuk happened?
And how the fuk am I now homeless in London?
Delivered by Singapore Airlines on Flight SGN007.
Stay focused, Steve.
Stay on the task at hand.
You are James Bond.
All maybe lost…
But 007 doesn’t give up.
I am the hero of my story.
How can I fail?
I’m James Bond.
Directed by Mr. C.
Am I still high?
I haven’t smoked shit in a week.
This can’t be in my head.
It must be true.
It cant be crystal meth psychosis, can it Mr. Fox?
I’ve been walking about ten minutes and now I’m back where I started- the outdoor smoking section at Terminal 2.
I laugh out loud.
I know Mr. Fox is laughing, too.
Special forces operative with no sense of fuken direction.
Except back to Cambodia.
That’s my direction.
I scrounge another fag from a traveller, sit on the concrete block and smoke it.
On the 20th day of Christmas my true love sent to me…
A soldier with PTSD…