It brought back memories from Syria, the shooting and the bombing. The rest of the evening I just coasted along, floating like an albatross on the up...rafts of alcohol and ambience. Sometimes I had the presence of mind to understand what they said, sometimes not. I occasionally said something that seemed appropriate at the time. Also, I was lord of the stereo, deciding what music should be played – an important macho thing, I was told. I was pleased that there was some small thing I did right. Eventually I was untied. I was too fatigued to speak, to move. I didn’t respond as I was handled and I swear to God someone checked me for a pulse. Death by fucking: that was new. I was picked up, carried into what felt like a car, but not a boot, driven, I think, carried again, and found myself on soft sheets. I didn’t open my eyes once.~I don’t remember much else from that night. Certainly none of the details. I found out later on there had been dozens of men, from every ethnicity and. More

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