Korridorium

♫ O pium desiderium ♫

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“I enter the corridor,” I whisper into the doorman’s ear. He nods and lets me through. The passphrase has been the same for years—likely because the customers here, people like me whose memories have become patchy and unreliable, can easily remember this watchword, as it perfectly describes the first moments when the effects kick in. There is also a certain sense of volition to it, a story we tell ourselves every time we make our way toward our divans and the long pipes.

Opium den: