He thought about the events of the day, the mould in his bathroom, the curry sauce he’d have to make at work tomorrow, how he’d like to go to Glasgow one day. Phil was only getting fucked – or raped, he wondered – by the man in Burgess Park in the physical sense. Emotionally, mentally, psychologically, even spiritually, he was somewhere else. From then on, this would happen to Phil nearly every time he had sex: during sex, he would cease to have a body at all. All he had was abstract trains of thought. Of course, it was still painful, in the physical sense. In the physical sense, it had been
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