It wasn't the easiest route to get back home, but it was the first one I discovered, that first night in town. It was full of dead ends, twists, turns, oily puddes deep enough to drown in.  My way through the most dangerous streets, the wildest bonfires, the ugliest decay.  I felt pleased with myself.  In the background I could have sworn I could hear the swelling murmour of sycophantic applause.

But I only looked dead ahead, at the point of sunrise, still three hours away.  All that mattered was that walking through hell is refreshinlg inexpensive.  My mother should be proud of me, but I doubted if she'd bother