Now that I had learned the trick the way was easy.

And I knew the way was bound to become easier the more I travelled it.

Once establish a line of least resistance, every succeeding journey along it will find still less resistance.

And so, as you shall see, my journeys from San Quentin life into other lives were achieved almost automatically as time went by.
After Warden Atherton and his crew had left me it was a matter of minutes to will the resuscitated portion of my body back into the little death.
Death in life it was, but it was only the little death, similar to the temporary death produced by an anaesthetic.
And so, from all that was sordid and vile, from brutal solitary and jacket hell, from acquainted flies and sweats of darkness and the knuckle- talk of the living dead, I was away at a bound into time and space.
Came the duration of darkness, and the slow-growing awareness of other things and of another self.

First of all, in this awareness, was dust.
It was in my nostrils, dry and acrid.