The wheels of the aircraft lift. I tear loose from Africa. My trip to England to earn pounds is finally under way. Nobody knows that I am going to jump off a bridge in London. Because I have had enough of fighting a financial mess that I created myself. Gambling and foreign exchange have sent me to hell and back seventy times seven.
My soul-searching journey was a heavenly night from hell. Articulating it exposed me. But my compelling need to look in my own mirror was never greater. What I saw made me flinch. And yet, gradually, as the layer of vapour on the mirror dissipated, I saw behind me in the mirror a crowd of faces. Searchers, like me. The lost. The blind and the clairvoyant. The cursed and the blessed. All just like me. So that I could not but step into the midst of the crowd in the mirror. Because perhaps the essence of life lay somewhere in this multitude. If I did not go searching there I would never know.
It was an uneven road that often caused me to become too deeply lost in myself. However, I gradually came to understand my maze better, the infidelity of my life partner, the abortion. Travelling the road to the end changed me. Finally my own voice could be in harmony with the crooning choir, and I realised that every earthling is on their own Sabbath-day's journey. And I could finally come home to the Promised Land of milk and honey - in myself.