far from civilisation

Gemma’s ankles were swollen from the flight. She was ratty. ‘I look like an elephant,’ she said through microscopic cheeks.

We dumped our pills and powders behind a cactus. ‘Is this India?’ said Elle, knotting her necklace to her hair till her head hung.

‘Nope,’ said Jewel. She dug a tear from her duct like a splinter. ‘But enlightenment comes at the end of  dust – and there’s dust all over.’

‘I left Anna in the airport toilets,’ Gemma said (Anna was the name of her eating disorder). Gemma wasn’t dishonest although certainly a liar.

Elle fingered the secret rock she’d sewn into her sleeve: ‘Man, we’ll be clean forever when we find Buddha!’ Pixie was bipolar and off her meds –

‘Look at the sodden state of me!’ She was wearing the big bug-eyed glasses she thought made her melt. ‘My sores are seeping,’ said Gemma as mealy gunk pushed from her skin like toothpaste. Just then, she spotted

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