First they strip you of your name and dignity and your sight and give you a common language: "Edo filiam ilu filiam." You march blindly through stairwells and halls chanting to the chamber whenre you are lifted to the sky. Then they seek your trust: sliding over outstretched arms in a game of imitation. Then they teach you how to draw blood, and how to give it. And finally a grain of speech: "This is the very painting of your fear, this is the air drawn dagger..." repeated like a sickness, each time with fresh motives and inflections. Then they make a beggar of you, a meal served at the hands of the others, and a shrill stomp and song. Before the real initiation, where we are painted with ash and drawn into the fire, I blow a kiss to the believers, and trudge under my pack onto the street.