Alfred’s road to a cure through psilocybin has not been one of unalloyed ease or joy. And yet it seems to Alfred as if progress has indeed been made.
Alfred is lucky enough to have as friends a family of druids. The very word conjures images of sacred groves, dryads, water nymphs.
For the ever mercurial Alfred the sun did not rise yesterday. After a splendid microdosed Sunday, he woke with a bump on Monday morning.
My long depressed friend Alfred gave me an initial report on his experimentation with psilocybin.
My good friend Alfred of Amsterdam has filled his garden shed with gro-bags laced with B+ Cubensis spores.