As a chubby nine-year old, I dreamt of a new bike, gleaming, new. Almost resplendent. And of course, it was red. And glowing. I promised to God that if I got one for my birthday I would clean it everyday and always lock it up in the shed at night. I closed my eyes and I could almost hear the echoing clack-clack of the playing cards on the spokes. It was chrome shiny and wonderful all over.” I dreamt lots... Read more