I remembered who I was then. Three months across Java, following a calling I couldn't quite explain.

I stood before the mountain and tears came pouring as though straight from my heart, as lifetimes of separation melted into the vastness.

I'd given my van – complete with double bed, kitchen, wardrobe and wood burner – to a deity. Nine weeks of preparation, a circuit of the temples, and an initiation in the desert. I dozed off for most of it.

‘Why am I seeing a giant vulva in the sky?’, I thought. And carried on.

Nine articles remembering van life and my Underworld journey during Covid. What took me from London to Peru.