January 2025

A man I recognize bares his teeth at me

• I’m getting ready to leave the Spa Resorts in Lamai and travel back to Madrid where I will meet my friend Inma who’s going to come with me to the gender-violence police department to augment the complaint I already made to them back in March.
• I’ve also organized that Paul will accompany me too because perhaps if I bring a man along with me they might actually do something.
• I’m sitting in the restaurant having some food and reading the set of Psalms I’ve been reading every Sunday on my mobile phone.
• I become aware of a man hovering around.
• I’m immediately suspicious of him.
• He’s pale, white, British - I can hear him speaking with the waiters.
• He has long, very greasy black hair, and what seems to be a Spanish wife (from the accent) and a daughter of about eight-years-old.
• He glares at me baring his big, shining-white, well-dentistried teeth.

• It’s very threatening.
• But, I realize I know this man.
• He’s the man who tried to rob H. Samuel the jewelers with a fake credit card while I was on the till in Brent Cross in … you guessed it … the summer of 1989, just before the North London rape-gangs got hold of me.
• I knew that immediately; what I didn’t realize until later is he is also the man I dreamt about when I was seven, the man who imprisoned my brother with an evil matchbox mechanism that grabbed his forearm.
• Could he also be the same really nice geezer my brother met in Lamai in 2010?
• The man who gave my brother the drugs and instructions on how to buy them at the pharmacy, just before he totally lost his mind.
• The same man who it was really important my brother told me about having met - while he was grinding his teeth, still furious with me, when he popped into the Spa the last time I would see him relatively conscious in Thailand.
• My guess is the whole scam with my brother over the years with his new mates was about ensuring his woman-loathing was so intense, his disgust with my femaleness would mean he would never think once about helping me when, as it was so planned, I would really need it.
• Perhaps they felt they needed something even more given that, even though my brother was going through this woman-hating, pay-to-rape hell in Thailand, when I met him to hang out that Christmas we were friendly; the connection is strong and I don’t take things personally.
• What was the evil matchbox mechanism, I wonder, and how does it relate to my brother’s forearm?
• Oh, and I see the same woman the following year when I visit, and she’s not Spanish and doesn’t appear to have a daughter either.
• She’s Brazilian maybe, and she smiled and said hello to me in a pleasant and familiar way.
• I love these Miss Marple sections, don’t you!

The persistent widow

• After having thrown my toiletries away and completed an intense seven-day fast and detox in Samui, I am suddenly starting to see things more clearly.
• It’s obvious how badly my mind has been affected by drugs and poisons, and for how long too.
• I’m seriously concerned I’m going to be murdered by either Domingo Lopez Cano’s family working alongside Hazel Smith’s organization, or gitano and British criminal gangs anywhere in the world, or the Spanish police when I get back to Spain, or even the British police for their possible collusion.
• I’m scared and I don’t know what to do.
• I reach out to a Baroness at the House of Lords who is a strong support for women and girls in the fight against the abuses of trans ideology.
• I have had some communication with Baroness Nicholson previously.
• Significantly, I emailed her probably sometime in March after I became afraid for my life.
• At the time she responded with a note that I understood to mean we should expect certain cultures to behave in the way the people of Dénia have been behaving towards me, which perplexed me but I had no capacity to think about it further.
• This month, we have a long correspondence where I explain how scared I am, and why, and how I believe I’m going to be murdered.
• Here is most of the email thread.
• After she has a word with Lauren Ott from the Metropolitan Police - who I explained was the investigating officer on my North London rape-gang case from 2015 - she basically tells me I’m hysterical!

• I’m angry about her reply, and I tell her what I think.
• Later on, after some prayer and reflection, I decide that she must be telling me - without telling me - that there is a big investigation going on into the Spanish conservatories (music and dance) where children are in peril, and also into the medical professionals colluding with the gangs (doctor’s pills).
• I hold onto this dwindling certainty, without which my reasonable moral expectations for our world are in tatters.
• I reply to her, apologizing for getting cross.
• This is just one of a bunch of emails I sent to the Baroness and to the police in the UK, the last one dated February 2026.
• Whenever things got really overwhelming for me, I would reach out to them.
• After the first few times I got no response, I stopped expecting a response, but still felt compelled to try again to get help.
• As well as the Baroness, the emails went to Lauren Ott, a policeman sent to assist me while I was campaigning at the UK general election in June 2024, the election police lead involved in protecting candidates for general election in London, and anyone and everyone I had details for that I thought might care or be able to help.
• I received no reply from anyone.. apart from a couple of vague but pleasant responses from the Baroness, and Lauren Ott responding to me once directly telling me to call 999 when I get home to London, which I do: another spectacular disappointment for the widow.

Twitter translators

• Currently all my tweets are getting few views as usual and a lot of translations.

Trumpet teacher

• I now believe the trumpet teacher’s name is Paco Sendra, the married man Hazel Smith told she was having an affair with back in 2007.

Correction

• Paco Sendra is most likely not the man’s name as this is the name of a famous footballer. Possibly Hazel Smith would not have known that at the time.
• This really is a long game isn’t it.

Max Power

• I get continual info on Twitter over January and late December informing me that the porn brand they are using to distribute whatever porn they make is Max Power, which makes Samuel’s email from 2022 quite interesting.
• Indeed, when I do a Google search on this, I notice many of the links that I can see on 1frgvn x google search videos are related to Max Power.

Paul

• I need someone to help me move from Denia but I struggle to ask people for help, for obvious reasons.

Asking for help

• When a sexual abuse victim asks for help they are typically ignored, fastidiously disbelieved, sometimes even attacked, rarely heard.
• It gets to the stage you realize you have to do everything for yourself.
• You stop asking for help as it is a waste of time.
• It seems like the cult of the sexual predator is so powerful, and controls everyone’s mind, that even your own family despises you.

• I’m telling my story online and it is alarming some friends.
• A Belgian friend Nicos - who I visited during EthCC is extremely concerned and says he’ll come and help me but he then doesn’t contact me for a few days.
• He ghosts me, in fact, and when I message him he says something about his children.
• What has he heard?
• I ask Paul, my old friend who connected with me the previous June, if he will help me go to the police in Madrid, and help me move too.
• He agrees.

Grooming and the CB radio

• Paul and a group of boys were groomed over the CB radio by a gay man called Dennis in the 70s.
• CB radio was the first ever social media and, as you might imagine, pedophiles and predators immediately made use of it to get close to targets.
• The mass online grooming going on today would have blown their minds.
• Dennis convinced the boys that he was a decent replacement for their parents, convincing Paul of the utter uselessness of his own father.
• This group of 14 year old boys would go and hang out with this gay adult male at his house and elsewhere.
• Paul’s parents were horrified, and rightly so, but groomers know very well which children to target and whatever they tried to do about it failed.
• Paul never got over it and, to this day, he believes Dennis was a force for good in his life.
• In fact, I believe this is what drew me and Paul together and made drugs and alcohol so appealing; our shared child sexual grooming experiences.

• I meet Paul at Madrid airport.
• I picked the car up there the day before.
• It was at the airport garage for two months.
• Hackers have been warning me about getting in the car, and when I do get in the car after two months I immediately start feeling symptoms of unwellness: scratchy throat, rheumatic pains in my hands.
• We stay at a Eurostars hotel on the outskirts of the city but near enough to drive in.
• I’ve asked Paul to bring masks and gloves because I believe the car is poisoned with pesticides.
• Paul is emaciated; skin and bone.
• He looks like he has been doing seriously hard drugs for decades.
• He reminds me of Winston May’s accomplice I saw outside Rape Crisis Hornsey, Busby.
• Bizarrely, Paul did not come through to the arrivals hall at Madrid airport. Instead, he waits at the shuttle train station for about an hour.
• When I arrive, I call him.
• He’s been there over an hour and he sort of pretends he doesn’t know where he is or how to get out, and I tell him to come to arrivals as I’m collecting my bag.
• Paul is far from stupid so this behavior concerns me enough to write about it in an earlier commit on the same evening.
• I delete the content later on as Paul does help me a lot and I feel a bit guilty about thinking badly of him.
• I comment on the deletion.

Deleted commit content

• Regarding deleted commit content, I’m now unsure of who I can trust anywhere in the world.
• I believe my fears are exacerbated but given my experience over the last 3 years literally anything could happen.
• Anything that might be a risk to my life, I have to take measures against, even if the risk appears to be low.

• Paul talks non-stop like a machine gun.
• He seems to be on drugs.
• I’m convinced he’s doing serious drugs and has drugs on him, and that he didn’t want to come through to arrivals in case he was stopped.
• I’m convinced he waited for me so that he would look more legit walking through with me.
• I wonder if he was given advice about that because it seems an odd thing to think up if you didn’t have anything to worry about.
• Paul looks like one of the drug ghouls that used to roam around in a junkie shoal around the Oudekerk in Amsterdam.
• I tell him this and rebook his return flight to go home the next day.
• He is not coming to the police in Madrid with me looking like this.
• He is offended.
• He has already told me he has diabetes which I believe, but diabetes doesn’t make you look like he does, or shout incessantly about nothing.
• He is doing my head in.
• I’m trying to think.
• I tell him to shut up.
• I feel like someone has told him to distract me constantly so that I do not have a minute to think or collect my thoughts about anything.
• He tells me he is sharing a flat with a man in North London. It turns out he’s sleeping on the sofa and the owner is an opium addict.
• I find out later he’s living in his car and has been for years; he kept it quiet.
• He tells me he is not a heroin addict.
• I have to take his word for it but it’s hard to believe.
• Nevertheless, I have no choice but to send him home and go to the police in Madrid without him.
• I give him my coat and a decent woolen jumper and tell him not to sell them.
• I think about the many good people I know in North London whose lives were destroyed by drugs.

Dinner at the hotel in Madrid

• Paul and I sit down to a late supper at the hotel.
• He won’t shut up talking.
• For some reason I decide to call home, and talk to dad for a while.
• Dad tells a racist(ish) joke and tells me to tell Paul.
• I find myself giggly, high. I apologize to Paul for being giggly.
• Why was I giggly?

Ritzy

• When I call Paul from Thailand to arrange to meet him at Madrid airport he’s with Ritzy.
• I don’t know who this is and worry it sounds like a gang name and could be someone dodgy.
• I tell him not to speak to anyone.
• He laughs and says, oh, it’s just Ritzy.
• She’s in her 90s and he does odd jobs for her, all the time.
• Paul will do a few odd jobs for my mum and dad over January and February.
• He seems to be seething with everyone, and deliberately does his own thing and breaks things, then charges £100 an hour.
• Is he taking advantage of Ritzy?

Paul promises me he’s not doing heroin

• It seems obvious to me Paul has been doing heroin, but he’s adamant he is off the drugs since July 2024 and was only doing crack.
• Even so, I take my handbag to the toilet when I go I’m so concerned about him.
• I explain I’m sending him home because he looks like a drug addict and I wanted someone to be there for me who would command a bit of respect.
• He goes into a massive meltdown about how he’s never done heroin and it’s all my fault for suggesting it, and how I’m always telling lies about everyone, and how dare I.. that sort of thing.
• It’s quite a performance, so I tell him fair enough and I let it go.

Writing about Paul in my book

• I take the opportunity to write a few notes in here about Paul (knowing that everyone is reading them and assuming there’s a massive investigation going on) because I’m so concerned about him.
• I commit a description of him arriving at Madrid airport on his BA flight but not going through to arrivals and instead waiting where the little train stops until I call him.
• It’s the sort of thing you’d do if you didn’t want to walk through customs/border control on your own looking like he does.
• I wonder if he had some drugs on him.
• Did someone tell him to do that; to wait for me?
• After I send Paul home, he tells me when I next see him that police at Heathrow had searched him and even taken a DNA swab from his mouth.
• I take this as more proof of the big investigation going on, but perhaps he’s lying about this too.

A child sexual abuse survivor gets retraumatized

• I tell Paul later that it is extraordinarily common for people who have been groomed and abused as children to become retraumatized as adults and have breakdowns; specifically when their same-sex kids get to the same age they were when they were groomed by a predator.
• I believe this is what happened to Paul.
• Paul denied the abuse and repeatedly stood up for this random man who had destroyed the relationship these boys had with their parents.
• I told him there wasn’t a planet in the universe where what Dennis had done was OK.
• Paul was a great guy, one of the best.
• He, like me, never had any real support from family as they didn’t seem to know what was going on for him, and, like me, he was blamed by them for everything that was happening to him that his child’s mind couldn’t really comprehend.
• It was unfair for him, and me.
• Paul went to pieces around about the same time his second son who he was parenting reached the age that Paul was groomed.

Paul’s lies about the Royal Family, and other things

• Paul told me a lot of stories, most of them lies I expect, I hope.
• He did mention that he had met both Charles and Diana because his grandfather had been the chief librarian at the Times and they came in when he was there and knew his grandfather by name.
• He told another story about Diana bumping into him in Camden High Street somewhere when she was hounded by paparazzi and he had caught her and she remembered him by name.
• Paul told a great deal of porkies while we were together.
• Some were really nasty stories about people I knew, and you could tell he was trying to “get them back” for something.
• The stories he told about his grandfather, mostly, I really wanted to be true.

Paul the famous chef

• It’s another one of his scams.
• I realize he wants to cook everywhere and talks about cooking as if he’s a famous chef so he’ll be able to eat.
• He clearly chooses drugs over food and has done for years.

Paul’s friend Lucy

• Paul tells me how I’m one of his best friends in the whole world, that he has only three best friends in the whole world, and I’m one of them.
• He tells me this repeatedly.
• It’s weird.
• I haven’t seen the man in twenty years.
• Is he trying to butter me up?
• One of the other best friends of Paul’s in the whole world is a woman called Lucy.
• He mentions her even more.
• I don’t know who she is, but something rings suspicious.
• Something reminds me of Lucyfer Adams.
• I ask Paul how long he’s known Lucy.
• He says a few years.
• He talks about how they go on 50k bicycle rides up to Cheshunt and back, stopping at the pub to drink a few pints.
• Lucy would drink three pints and carry on. Paul would only manage one.
• The thing is, Paul couldn’t walk more than about twenty metres without his ankles giving way and he was talking about these bike rides happening just a year or so before.
• He seems to be in constant communication with Lucy on WhatsApp, and he calls her too.
• Paul shows me a picture of Lucy on his phone. It’s her WhatsApp profile pic.

The gay bar

• When I’m back in London prior to going to get my stuff I see Paul a lot.
• We use his car to visit Glastonbury as mine is in Madrid.
• He’s around a lot.
• One day, we’re in the Old White Lion in N2.
• There’s a menacing bloke at an opposite table.
• He gets a WhatsApp and suddenly says, let’s go somewhere else.
• We head to a bar in Highgate Village which is apparently a gay bar.
• There’s no reason for this.
• He explains it’s a place he often goes to with Lucy.
• He suggests we sit on the raised table in the window.
• I say no.
• Two women sit close by us. I’m pretty sure one of them is his friend Lucy.
• Is Lucy the youngest Adams’ daughter?
• How does Paul really know her and for what purpose?
• At the time, I’m certain he has been instructed to take me to this pub so I can be “viewed”.
• Does he get a payment for his services while I’m in the toilet?

Harassment in UK

• I’m targeted a fair bit when I’m back in UK as you will read across these next months until October.
• Somehow, also, I’m totally high, all the time.
• Apart from a few obvious moments, such as the two women in Harlow, it’s not clear how they’re managing to spike me.
• I realize later that they’re powering up the dosage too.
• Did my job ensure they kept the dosage down to barely obvious?
• Just like in Denia, it seems that every time I leave the house some rare event occurs.
• I’m certain it was criminal gang activity, especially considering Paul’s sudden “popping up” and his erratic behavior, dishonesty, and obvious hard drug addiction.
• Was the frenetic activity from criminal gangs in London… even getting a junkie involved - the most disloyal people in the universe - and all the harassment at that time early in the year, and during the general election the year before… is it because they know my dad, and my whole family in fact, would see me dead before helping me?
• Or were they panicking and drugging me harder to make sure I didn’t remember the switcheroo men, perhaps also holding out on the hope they might be able to get me into a situation where I’d part with my money?

Michael from Wearyall Hill

• I contact Michael to tell him I’ve written about the dream I had while I was staying at his house in July 2022.
• He is FURIOUS with me.
• He wants to know why I’m telling him this.
• His rage is irrational, unsettling, and very, very curious.
• I try to explain it to myself as pure misogynistic gaslighting, but there’s something more to it than that
• I start to wonder about Michael’s poor health and body paralysis.
• I explain, gently, to Michael that perhaps if a reporter was to come and do detox with him, he might like to mention my book which includes a short description of my stay at the end of July 2022.

Madrid policia

• In Madrid on 6^th January.
• I picked Paul up the evening before at the airport but he’s alarmed me so much I have to send him home.
• I send Paul home because his drug-addiction has made him look like a beggar man and I can’t possibly bring him to the police station with me looking like he does.
• I had wanted a man to come with me for support, but Paul needs more help than anyone else.
• He also seems to be on something because he cannot shut up; or the North London porn gangs, still panicking about my continued survival, have instructed him to distract me, to not let me think, and so he’s shouting continuously at me.
• I buy him a plane ticket and send him home.
• Later, he tells me that UK border police give him a DNA test at the airport in the UK on arrival; a cheek swab.
• I find that extremely interesting.
• So, only Inma and I attend the police station in Calle Huertas on 7^th January to report malicious poisoning and bring samples and a timeline of events; our second visit.
• They’re totally disinterested.
• I tell them I have samples of poisoned items for testing.
• Just like they told me I had to pay to privately prove hacking before they’d investigate hacking, they tell me I have to pay a private laboratory to confirm poisoning before they’ll investigate poisoning!
• I hand them my 200 page printed report (an early draft of this statement and the original intention for writing it)…
• The chief throws it on the table in disgust, and instructs his officer to “send it to Dénia”.
• But not before flicking through it and pointing to some of the women - photos I have printed in high resolution - including Elsa and the innocent women groomed (and drugged) into doing porn.
• The chief says, “who’s that?”, pointing to them.
• I tell him that Elsa is Domingo Cano Lopez’s piano student at the conservatory and I don’t know who the innocent woman is.
• The chief says nothing.
• They want nothing to do with me.
• I suspect the report goes in the bin once we’ve left.
• Later that evening over tea, Inma talks about how I used to be interested in Haitian spiritual practices (I wrote a novel in Lourdes using Haiti as a theme) in a semi-condemning manner.
• I explain that Mother Mary introduced me to the practice, and it turned out to be a strong psychological protective barrier against my fear of the Jamaican rape-gangs from 1989.
• Inma goes into the kitchen and returns after a while with a slice of Reyes cake.
• I bite into something hard. It’s a little figure of the black wise-man of the three kings.
• She’s telling me something…
• I think it is that everyone believes I’m the guilty one because I was raped by black men when I was a child.
• Is she really telling me that whatever I have uncovered about porn-industry infiltration of Spanish schools is irrelevant because I was sedated and raped as a child by groups of Jamaican men in North London?
• A few days later, Inma tells me that the poisoning laboratory told her they will not test my samples without an order from the police.

Seonaid Dawn and Granny Smith

• Both suspect accounts, mentioned in fake account list, Hazel Smith references from May 2024, and elsewhere.

• I’ve now started to block the criminal gang members and porn accounts, including these.

I call the police

• I’ve left the car in Madrid at the airport again.
• The day after my brief return to London, I call the police to report the numerous crimes I’m aware of that have been committed on my person while living in Spain at the pleasure of British and Spanish criminal gangs, and others, as advised by my contacts in the Met.

• Two female constables turn up to my house the following morning: PC Richardson 1990NW and PC Patel 2669NW.
• They are totally dismissive in a rather aggressive manner.
• I tell them I was drugged and poisoned and I have samples. They said it happened in Spain so they’re not interested.
• I tell them all my devices are hacked and I have been surveilled continuously for years. They say it happened in Spain so they’re not interested.
• I explain it was happening all over the world. They don’t care.
• I explain it is happening now, in England. They don’t care.
• I tell them I’ve been to the police numerous times in Spain and they don’t care.
• Not our problem, they say.
• I tell them I have been shown flashed images of rape-porn I was in as a child.
• They say, “show us”, and obviously I can’t.
• I tell them, “they’re not stupid, they’re not going to give me evidence for that but I know it was me.”
• If you can’t show us, we’re not interested.
• I tell them I’m being continually threatened online on X.
• I show them some of the online threats I’ve endured, including the picture of my brother with RIP below it. They tell me nothing I have shown them is a threat.
• The blond one keeps cutting me off and saying, forcefully, “You haven’t shown us anything, just show us something”.
• I try to but everything I say is cut off as not being criminal.
• Whenever I try to slow them down and deal with what I do have methodically, they start to rush me, demanding I show them something, and changing the subject when I’m trying to explain something to them.
• It’s very unpleasant.
• I tell them British children are in danger in Spain. They’re not interested.
• I tell them I was stalked by North London rape-gang members I had already told the police about while I was campaigning for election in July.
• They want to know who I stood for in the election. I tell them; Party of Women.
• They tell me the criminal gang members can go wherever they like. It’s not a crime.
• It’s so incongruent, I ask them if they’ve been told to dismiss everything I’m saying by someone.
• They get annoyed.
• I take their numbers down on my hacked laptop. The blond one says, “Oh, wait, we’ll write it down for you.” I say, no no, let me put your numbers in here. She still wants to write the numbers down for me. I wonder why she doesn’t want me to write their details into my hacked laptop.
• I realize they are going to do nothing for me, as usual, so I let them leave. They were trying to get away from the minute we started to speak. They stayed 20 minutes.

Seeking asylum in another country

• I am clearly unsafe in the United Kingdom as well as in Spain and France, and especially in North London where my family live.
• I was followed in Thailand also.
• I’m not safe at home, it’s an extraordinarily toxic environment and totally unsupportive.
• I’ve spent my whole life being gaslit by people pretending nothing has ever happened to me and my mother’s attitude towards me is especially upsetting.
• My dad was aware of everything that was going on, I had explained everything to him in September 2024 in Lourdes and he appeared to understand the nature of my situation and how much danger I was in.
• As I told him my story, he kept saying: heavy, heavy,; I thought it was just him taking the piss, as he usually does. He then told me to be careful as I could be beaten by a man and made to be a prostitute.
• Did he pretend to be supportive to me and then tell my mother and brother I was not to be believed?
• I had told my brother everything I knew in June 2024 about what was going on for me and how much danger I was in. We were tracked in the pub at that time by operatives, police I expect.
• He was spectacularly disinterested at the time, as if what I was telling him was nothing.
• He speaks to me like he thinks I’m a little fool imagining things. Is that what dad told him too?
• I access the Israel website for asylum seekers and try to make an application.
• I understand Israel to be the only country I’m safe in.
• My web access is continuously blocked.
• I give up.

Glastonbury with Paul

• I want to update my will.
• I have a will registered in Glastonbury which I want to formally delete - although I already made a new one.
• I want a will which will leave the forgivenet to the whole world (I changed my mind on this now too so need to update the one I registered with the UK public will database), and leave all my wealth to the Hospitalite of Lourdes.
• I would now like to leave the forgivenet to the country of Israel, if that’s possible, because with Israel it will be safe for the whole world.
• I do not want anyone evil inheriting from me and I’m aware that if I die and my money goes to family members, criminal gangs will target them if they haven’t already.
• I ask Paul to accompany me to Glastonbury as I feel unsafe everywhere (ironic innit).
• We travel down 16-18 January.

Telling Paul what’s going on for me

• At a service station on the M3, finally, Paul stops talking for five minutes.
• I have the chance to tell him what’s been going on.
• I explain what teachers and staff at the conservatory had done.
• He asks quietly: How didn’t you go mad?
• At the time I thought a statement like this was not entirely appropriate, but couldn’t really figure out why.
• I think if I had been in Paul’s position, I would have reacted differently, alarmed, shocked, angry, upset, trying to think of ways to help.
• Paul’s quiet statement perhaps reflects a sense of knowing exactly what had been going on, the severity of the attack, and not caring much.
• Did Paul have a subscription to my sedated sex-slave stardom, or know someone who showed him?
• Was going mad a betting outcome for me for the addicts worldwide?

No ordinary girl, or boy

• While in Glastonbury we wander around the bookstores.
• I’m looking for a new note book.
• I find one.

• While I’m looking at the images on the notebook of a bookshelf containing hundreds of books about superhero girls, I’m reminded of the artist trumpet-teacher’s painting of the three pedophile-porn-horror siblings: Bruno trumpet-teacher with a gaping vacuum around his lower chakras, Gloria music-school secretary, and their brother who blew in my face outside the tunnel, all reading comic books.
• The painting’s background was this notebook; except the superhero was male.

An excited bookseller

• While we’re in the shop with the notebook, the bookseller from the shop over the road runs in excitedly, hopping around like they do, breathing hard, and looking at me in glances.
• Another horror-porn fan.

TT in Dublin

• Module 3 again.
• I ask Steve if I can come to Israel with him.
• He says yes.