23rd February 2012

I am the world’s most notorious thief, worth 120 million pounds.  I have a razor sharp white-blonde bob and a thick black mono-brow like a stripe across my face.  I decide to rent a flat above a cinema so that I can make lots of noise without having to worry about neighbours complaining.  When I arrive with my bags I realise the flat is haunted by the ghosts of little Cossack boys who used to be imprisoned there.  I go in anyway and start to unpack.  There is a knock at the door.  It is Rhianna who tells me she wants to come and sleep at my flat.  I lend her a thermal vest top and take her to a dormitory of single beds where the boys used to live, and watch her as she falls asleep peacefully.  I suddenly think of Mishima committing hara-kiri.  I realise, in a moment of clarity, that nobody in the world has ever juxtaposed Rhianna and Mishima’s suicide together in their brain at the same time.  I am excited, almost overwhelmed by this knowledge.