July 2026

Loka yoga

• I’m trying to do productive things with my time while I’m stalked endlessly by international security services and criminal gangs.
• I sign up for Yoga Teacher Training with Loka Yoga in Bali: https://lokayogaschool.com/ about three weeks before I attend, but I’ve been looking at courses in Bali online for months already.
• It’s agents. Everyone there. Is an agent.
• I even knew one of them personally from over ten years previous - but I’m not telling that story, someone else can when the time is right.
• The whole thing is set up for me.
• I endure an intense psychological-breaking day or two, enhanced with spiked drugs - this was really horrible - and so I quickly realize they’re not who they say they are, but something is very interesting about what’s going on, so I’m hooked on finding out the truth, and so, after a couple of days of pure torture, I tell them I’m only coming in for the yoga at the beginning of the day.

I wonder what might have happened…

• If I’d freaked out and ran away immediately.
• Not very good things, I imagine.

• For two weeks, I do yoga between 6-8am, pick up my ready-cooked meals and stay the rest of the day, on my own, in silence, in a house in Bali at the Ciputra Beach Resort; a very quiet area seemingly in the middle of nowhere.

• There are agents next door though, on all sides. But they don’t talk to me.
• They’re all pretending to not be American.
• Eventually, after two weeks of it, I decide I’m leaving because I feel like I’m under house arrest - like I don’t mind extended house arrest such as in Samui, where it’s not like solitary confinement (apart from when it affects the local businesses, I don’t like that) but this was OTT.
• It was clear to me, eventually, that the people “arresting” me, as it were, although on my side in certain respects (law-enforcement being the main one - although my trust has failed here too now - statement written pre-Jerusalem when God started telling me all about them) they clearly do not have anyone’s long term best interests in mind, especially their own.

Arriving

• They make a point of telling us how trustworthy the taxi driver is, and then switch him at the last moment without telling me.
• I did wonder if I was being kidnapped.
• I’m high that night.
• How do I know?
• The cockroach in the bathroom was about a metre tall and my reaction to it was extraordinarily exaggerated.

• While this was happening, another part of my mind, a calm part, could see very well that the cockroach was big but not that big, and so I noticed my reactions were pretty unusual.
• Like, honestly, they’re not that bad and there I was sitting on the bed, hand on my heart, laughing nervously.
• The rest of the night every bump and scratch sent me jumping out of bed and looking around.
• It all made more sense over the next few days.

First day

• I wake up and notice a dragonfly outside the window.
• Again, my senses were unusually sensitive to have noticed this tiny creature and been amazed enough to take a picture of it.

• I’m thinking the cockroach is the hideous (but harmless) monster I have to deal with.
• And the dragon fly is my friend, watching and waiting for me to finish dealing with the hideous (but harmless) monster.
• I liked his stripes.

Stella

• At the first session, the teachers introduce themselves.
• Firstly, and importantly, Taryn tells us that she and Yann her boyfriend (a Frenchman who worked as a paramedic in Alicante - he’s keen I know this) met on Tinder, then LinkedIn - they’re keen I know this.
• One of the other teachers reminds me of the acting students on my first degree course in Performing Arts. She’s performing.
• There’s a Scottish woman teaching some classes on the course and her name is Stella.
• Stella studied ashtanga yoga in Euston, like Natalia had, fellow porn-gang target in Dénia, who I have written about extensively in this police statement as having had the same experience as me with the porn-gangs of Dénia.
• Natalia had been studying yoga with Hamish in Euston, right up until she moved to Dénia.
• I was always wondering what brought her to that region of Spain, and have been very suspicious that it was connected to the North London gangs who have been making billions on us for decades, but I didn’t have a solid lead.
• Until Stella.
• In a pre-coordinated manner, I bump into Stella after the session and ask her if she knows Natalia.
• She does.
• She tells me Natalia was a senior assistant when she was going to the studio too.
• I explain that Natalia was targeted by the porn-gangs in Spain, that they had done the same to me too and tried to murder me, and that they even got a baby out of her.
• Stella looked ashen when I mentioned the baby, and a little bit like Domingo at one point; like totally pale and monstrous.
• Whatever hallucinogenic substance I had ingested was, by then, exaggerated things to this extent.
• I now believe Stella introduced Natalia to Domingo Lopez Cano on request from the CIA - it’s what they do, mostly I believe because they really don’t think there’s anything wrong with porn or brutalizing women - and all this was set up so that I might continue to believe the Americans were investigating the sex-crime epidemic of Dénia.
• Were they getting ready to throw Stella under the bus?

Getting to know everyone

Requesting constant safety-and-wellness checks for my friends

• Please keep these folk alive and out of danger.
• Thank you.

• It’s a group of about twenty students, and every one of them has something for me.
• They’re all obviously actors and/or have been through military training; they’re tough and fit and strong, most have never done yoga before and can get into extremely advanced poses right off the bat.
• Normally on a retreat like this, you would expect a few to quit early on, especially as the sessions during the day were pretty boring (without the psychological torture taken into account)… no-one quits. It’s unprecedented.
• In the next session, we have to pair up and find out about our partner.
• Then, each person introduces their partner to the group.
• As they go around, every student behaves in exactly the same way the students on the BAPA course at Middlesex did. They’re all performing.
• The party tricks are nearly all the same! Bodily weirdness. Personally, I had a much broader bucket for party-trick examples.
• It’s amazing to me. I can’t figure it out at first. So I wait.
• I pair up with a man from Singapore, Vincent (a German woman will mispronounce his name to sound like Winston later on).
• We have to answer all these questions.
• It’s time for me to speak my truth.
• I tell him what’s going on with me very openly - about how I am homeless, and jobless, living in my car essentially, because I’d been sedated and raped repeatedly for years and live-streamed from my spy-cam apartment in Dénia, Spain to the world, and how since then I am stalked by criminal gangs and secret service wherever I go in the world.
• He tells the others my answers.
• We didn’t finish all the questions so I answer the rest of them directly to the group.
• When I get to the question after “what’s your party trick” (which I can’t remember, something like what will you be remembered for, they can confirm), I tell them “I have survived repeated poisoning attempts by criminal gangs”..
• I explain I have been poisoned repeatedly, I explain by criminal gangs, and I tell them I don’t die.
• No-one seems particularly surprised or mentions it again.

Everyone’s homeless

• Like Vilde did in Tibet, and others, a good proportion of the people I’m meeting these days are telling me they’re homeless too.
• They don’t offer this information until I tell them I am homeless.
• Then they tell me they are too; normalizing my horrendous situation, again.
• Vincent did this, and a couple of the other course students too.

The psychological torture begins

• Perhaps the dose is ramped up at this point, because I cannot remember what the next session was even about.
• But whatever it was, it involved a lot of talking, answering questions, all the students interacting, speaking, a conversation with the teachers.
• Interspersed with everything they said were trigger meme’s from my life experiences and particularly in reference to sexual violence and everything that happened in Dénia.
• I started to become totally disassociated and found myself thinking more about the trigger memes than whatever it was they were “normally” talking about around it.
• It was so intense that some of it had already been set up, but I missed it the first time around and picked it up on a repeat. And there were many repeats.

Trigger memes

• Here’s a list of words or phrases or names that kept coming up verbally by teachers and course participants during the sessions, then online when I got back to my house:

  • Winston.
  • Coffee.
  • Tonia - pronounced Tona, no Y - (extraordinary isn’t it).
  • Imagine waking up with no legs.
  • Tibetan monks.
  • The Tibetan monk’s name, which incidentally I had forgotten and they used a name he doesn’t really use much also (Soma or similar) which was amusing to me, just like they did with Henry too.
  • A suggestion that I had flirted with the Tibetan monk! Outrageous - this was a few days later and I’d come down off whatever drugs they’d given me and I just started laughing at them they were so ridiculous.
  • Setting up brand memes to use later for triggers: Lululemon, for example, I assume referring to Lulu’s back in town being a lemon!
  • Horses - I might have gotten confused with the British spy (policewoman - not you, you were cool, the youngster with the Metattude) in Thailand at Fitkoh there.
  • Phones up in front of me as if they’re filming me.
  • Divine feminine, divine relationships.
  • Arrows (see June section) - a woman’s name was “arrow” in French.
  • A bronze statue of Ram with his arrow, but he has breasts.
  • She’s utterly exhausted - posts coming in from Joy about exhaustion.

  

  • My own words, phrases, and sentences from non-fiction, fiction, blogs, emails, tweets and similar from as far back as 2007 to the current time, from the morning even sometimes if I had been online before class.
  • He wasn’t here just for the water - referencing Elon’s trip to Bali in May 2024.
  • Leave no trace - Vincent had a “surfing” accident early on and had bumped his head. He had apparently been in pain in yoga classes and just sitting quietly. He told me it was a surfing accident, he hit his head, but something rang untrue about it, like he was reading lines. Basically, the course days were packed full of classes, from 6am-6pm and later, the Sunday day off we were all together. There was no time for him to have gone surfing, unless the whole thing was a farce and when I went home, they did too. Actually, he could have gone surfing on the Sunday as he didn’t attend the lunch.
  • Who are the other disciples?
  • Standing spit - referencing a sedated porn position.
  • Three-legged dog - referencing my neighbors dog in Las Marinas who may have starred in porn with me.
  • Just another lemon tree, musical backing track to applied hyno-tech in 2023 - proof that the salmon mousses were hacking me alongside the porn-gangs in Las Marinas.
  • Project Jonathan - constant references online to this and a few times at the centre. This is in relation to Jonathan, Mrs Wasserman’s nephew, getting an egg from me. This makes me think in August when I’m in Jerusalem that they’ve set the Jews up to take the blame for this. Or did they have another evil scheme in mind, who knows. Perhaps they’re aware my internal injuries are not going to be ignorable for so long. Ironically, throwing the Jews under the bus like this becomes significant and top-of-mind, and gets me thinking about Michael Sullivan who worked for Pan Am.
  • You can help so many sick people in the world - suggesting because I survive poisoning there’s something inherent in my body that can help them: their total and utter reinterpretation of Jesus.
  • I practice naked yoga - one of the men says this. Urgh.
  • Dr. Strange - the first slide in physiology class. I was curious about how he made that contextual but I was so disassociated I never found out.
  • Constant squirrels: squirrel is what I started calling Antonio when I found out the Bali attacks had been filmed.
  • One of the course participants looks exactly like Will Ferrell; an actor I’m probably on the record about finding repulsive since I saw him in The Other Guys making light of pimping women. Or did I tell someone about that? If so it was most likely my mum in the sitting room while we were watching TV, because I have literally been that isolated there was no one else to tell that wasn’t a total misogynist. They make sure I sit right opposite him.
  • Another course participant initiates a conversation about virgin births.
  • I hear course participants saying they all want to go home.
  • I hear course participants suggesting the dogs are trained, and indeed it seemed like the three dogs that came into sessions were triggered to move away from me whenever they got close with pen clicks.
  • (I’ll keep adding these in as I remember them…, it’s gonna be quite a list)

• It was a battering.

• Why would they do something like this? I couldn’t understand it at all. And while it was going on (whirl-winding around me, slap, slap, thump), and I was high on something, I was unable to assess it properly.
• It was exactly like how the porn-gangs operate on targets, except even more exaggerated, and I felt like I was back in classes at the conservatory - did the CIA give Domingo Lopez Cano their playbook and instruct him to set the switcheroo-porn up for me like he did?
• I started to feel the cameras on me too; as if there were hundreds in the room - they would make sure I was standing in a particular spot at times.
• I felt sensors measuring my physical systems, heart rate, temperature, everything.
• I realized my house was set up in the same way and indeed I would get confirmation online about things I’d done on my own quietly in private.
• What purpose does something like this serve?
• The only thing I could come up with was they might be trying to recruit me as a spy and part of that is breaking someone, and I told them this was what I was thinking and that I was never going to be a spy.
• I thought they maybe thought psychological violence and breaking me was a way to control me in perpetuity.
• I had no idea they had even more sinister intentions.

Course manual

• The YTT course manual looks like a copy of the Sivananda YTT course manual.
• I realize I’m supposed to believe this, and they want me to start complaining about things.
• I see the multiple lets-get-her-complaining traps, and I ignore them.

I don’t run away

• I feel like running away, but I don’t.
• Instead, I lay down on the floor with my face on the ground, but staying in the circle, because I was not ready to run.
• This way, I feel like a million cameras aren’t filming me, and I needed more information to find out what was really going on.

Welcome ceremony

• Someone asked me how I was doing when we went to the garden for the welcome ceremony with a Balinese priest.
• I told her I was having a massive panic attack and PTSD reaction.
• She never mentions it again.
• The terribly irreverent priest says some weird things like he’s not taking anything seriously and knows who these people are: thank you for the airport, he says.
• This is the first day over, unless there was something else, yes there was because the flowers from the ceremony kept going over the floor.
• There was another session of psychological torture before the day ended; I have no idea what the content of the session had actually been.
• The torture was so effective that it totally dissociated me and I have no recollection of what these sessions were even posing as.

Second day

• I’m high and I’m getting a headache.
• I come for yoga and plan on attending the full day.
• The yoga class is full of intense twisting and I’m wondering if they’re trying to get my rib to snap again so I won’t even be able to attend the yoga classes.
• I take super extra care of my rib for the whole two weeks.
• It is exactly the same as the day before; a full on psychological assault while I’m excessively high on something.
• Classes after yoga start with physiology and again it’s just meme after meme, even referencing conversations I’ve had online with the gypsies, amazing.
• At this point, however, I have a feeling, however, that something loving and kind and extremely powerful is communicating through me back at them, and sometimes I notice it too.
• Again, I stay in the circle, or as far away from it as I can be without disconnecting completely, with my face down so the cameras aren’t recording every twitch.
• The class content is designed around mass porn-gang sexual-violence rape-gang-porn-star meme triggers, or me being a superhero, or whatever; the faux content of the classes is secondary and not really what you would expect at all from a YTT.
• So, at the end of the second day, I call it a day.
• I wonder if it was the third day, I was so high those few days I can’t remember well.
• They’ve given me an out in any case by saying you can come to whatever classes you like and not sit the exam.
• So I inform them I’m taking this decision and only coming to yoga in the morning.

Weird body positions

• We’re asked to make shapes you wouldn’t be asked to make in actual yoga.
• For example, put your fists between your knees to measure the correct distance between your open knees, with a demo from the teacher.
• My knees are splayed, the whole pose would collapse like this.
• This is no measurement.
• I realize it was a position I was put in while sedated, so it’s on film - and thought about Alfonso, harmony teacher at the conservatory, at the same time.
• Other things like that.
• Body positions I made while masturbating in my bathroom with the lights on.
• Always something.
• It’s so embarrassing, you cannot imagine, but I don’t care.
• When every man with a porn subscription has seen you doing these things, and would recognize you in the street, at your job, at Duty Free in Dubai, anywhere in the world, the embarrassment on its own due to the (snickery) attitudes they have about you from seeing you like this is supposed to totally destroy your life; murder by embarrassment.
• The shame and embarrassment is theirs, in fact.
• Nevertheless, I think this justifies at least a billion more in compensation.

Two or three days before the strong, non-visual hallucinogen wears off

• I think it was Tuesday afternoon when I started to yawn excessively, the anxiety and dissociation dissipating.
• I was finally coming down.
• I’d arrived on Saturday and been high since then.
• So I’m in Bali in this house on my own going to yoga for a couple of hours in the morning, and I’m being fed, watered (they suggested to me that I was drinking salt-water for days and didn’t die - I don’t believe them - I think this was the story they thought up at the last minute to explain the drug-effects), and monitored closely, every move, every word, every breath.
• There’s a pool in the complex but there’s rarely anyone there.
• There’s a giant inflatable swan in the pool which they added to a Snoopy video too.
• So I’m writing every day - even though they insisted on no more stories - and it’s another conversation with people who are trying to control me, and whatever comes up to be added to this police statement seems to map in extraordinary ways with whatever’s going on at class.
• It’s curious.
• It’s God.
• And I think he’s annoyed with them.
• I’m ecstatic that He is most definitely BACK!
• I’m sober and continue going to classes, and they continue to do their horror meme triggering thing - this time it was things like music repeating the Tibetan monk’s name over and over, which I didn’t even notice for a while sober it was so ridiculous.
• I tell them so online later on; what did I say, something like it’s just trifles really, and then later online I said trifles was euphemistic for a bit silly.
• Fatuous is the better word.
• It stops.
• Just like with the Dénia porn-gangs, the manipulation needs drugging to work effectively.

No more stories

• Online communication from day 1 demands “no more stories”.
• So I tell them on Substack, OK, no more stories, and you can see I stop my writing schedule (it’s a solid routine) at the point I had stopped in the repo before I arrived.
• But then, HUGE story additions keep coming in from the past (like pre-2000), so I ended up doing a huge amount of writing/editorial on past sections.
• Why would they be so keen for me to stop writing?
• I did wonder at the time, but it seemed sensible to play their game at least till I figured out what was going on.
• When I got to Israel, and settled down in Jerusalem, I started writing again from where I left off, and posted about it on Facebook.

Another bridge

• The whole “bridge to Israel” is a major theme, from the moment I got in the taxi at the Holiday Inn.
• They flashed up Isaiah on his screen and were playing songs with very suggestive “bridge” lyrics, perhaps that was even the song title: You’re mine!
• In class there was a lot about how lonely I was going to be there, how Israel is the world’s laundry, all sort of rubbish.
• At the house, they were implying (online on social media, on Netflix Snoopy videos, and then when Netflix stopped working on the Snoopy videos on YouTube) that Bibi was watching me in the house.
• ikr.
• Things I did in the house were repeated back at me so I know for sure they really are watching.
• They told me I shouldn’t waft if I fart - which is something I used to do back in the day, long long ago in Carrer Furs, when I had no idea I was being watched 24/7.
• The instruction that I should dress well all the time, even at home, because I’m being watched all the time and assessed for rescue and Israeli immigration.
• This online meme is something I’m still seeing in Cauterets in September 2026! And I know they’re watching me here too.
• They’re all over me, all the time, everywhere I go, it’s constant, and especially in places I stay in which I booked long in advance.
• Getting over my “planning habit” has been one small benefit to me of all this madness.
• A Jewish-looking woman on the bus back from our Sunday excursion asks me the sort of questions a person assessing you for immigration might ask.
• Carolina (a Polish woman from Australia - who may have kept changing her accent from Aussie to German, bizarrely) played the “bridge manager” role and was one of the few course participants who lived in the same housing estate - like Vincent and his mum.
• Because of that I do wonder if Vincent was the surgeon and Carolina was the nurse for sedated surgery, but who knows. It would explain the surfing injury maybe. I guess we’ll be finding out.

Involving the locals

• My captors involved the locals in multiple schemes including the priest who, it seemed to me, was doing his best to be as irreverent as possible for good reason - did he know what they were up to?
• It seemed that everyone in the local area knew what was going on.
• The Balinese are not stupid, and they talk to each other, and even the women at the massage parlour down the road seemed to “recognize” me whenever I walked in.
• The local Balinese men that recognized me grinned and giggled.
• The local Balinese women that recognized me looked like they were in mourning and could hardly look at me in the eye.

The fake pervert in security

• So they set up a situation where it’s the first morning of the first day, and I’m walking into the school in the dark before sunrise, and I’m just passing the security gate at the estate, and a guard (out of uniform - they’re usually dressed up well) is lying down looking at his phone, in a position no-one would ever be in because he’s sitting the wrong way around in his chair, but in this position he can see me perfectly as I walk by, and he’s well lit by the cabin light so I can see him perfectly too, and as I walk by he pretends he’s masturbating to porn on his phone.
• He’s even grinning at me as he does it.
• I wag my finger at him - sort of mock-angrily - and carry on walking.
• And promptly forget about it.
• It didn’t seem real to me at the time for some reason. It was unconvincing and non-threatening, but very rude yes. Nevertheless, I was not offended and totally forgot about it.
• Something compels me to remember this event sometime later, maybe on the evening of the following day even, when I tell Taryn at the school about it at the end of a chat about something else.
• She says she’s going to have a word with the owner of the housing estate who lives in Switzerland apparently.

The see-through windows in the house

• I also mention at the same time that I have been going to the toilet, bathing, showering, and dressing myself with some risk of being seen by anyone walking outside, and every neighbor at the back, because the curtains are completely see through.
• So there’s a fuss about this too, and they sort it out.
• I ask Taryn if she thinks everyone knows who I am - I have in the interim told her everything that has been happening to me in the world - and they’re trying to get more porn of me?
• Women-on-the-toilet is a porn genre after all, I say.

Taryn tells me the management fired the man

• I’m informed the security team checked everything over and fired the apparently masturbating man.
• Something’s ringing untrue with this whole business, because he was obviously acting - told to behave this way - but whatever.

They come and fix the windows

• One of the estate managers comes with some men to fix the windows, and I’m pretty sure it’s the same man I saw grinning and pretending to masturbate on the first morning.
• He’s nervous too, sweaty and he can’t look me in the eye.
• His handshake is limp.
• (This is after they sacked someone, apparently.)
• I’m wondering if my captors are trying to figure out how bad my facial recognition skills are.
• I can tell you they’re pretty bad; and bad enough not to mention I think he’s the man I saw that first morning to anyone because I am so unsure.
• But I can tell what people are thinking and feeling, especially if it’s intense, and if I know them, even if I just spent a whole day with them, it doesn’t matter what they look like, I know who they are.
• Anyway, that’s incidental maybe, or perhaps it was part of their research efforts into how brain-damaged I actually am, not that they care I’m sure.

The Bible falls open at Isaiah 31

• Taryn and her boyfriend Yan come round to check the windows have been blacked out properly.
• I have just been doing my Bible study, which entails opening the Bible wherever it may open and reading that bit.
• The doorbell rings and I leave the open Bible on the bed to go and answer the door.
• They come up to see the work on the windows.
• My Bible is open on the bed at Isaiah 31.
• I see Taryn glance at it.
• Are they following along? Or do they think God is dead?
• The helpers and the helped. Every last one of them.
• That was a rare good moment.

A man approaches me in the street

• I’m walking to the beach one day about a week later and a local man drives up beside me on his motorbike and starts to talk to me.
• At the same time, a van full of working men (Indonesians) pulls up on the other side of the road to watch us.
• The road is always completely empty, it’s a very quiet area, hardly anyone around.
• So this man is saying, because of me reporting this masturbating man, he loses his job, but it wasn’t him and his wife is pregnant and can I help him.
• And indeed, I don’t think it was him in the cabin that morning.
• And at the same time, I’m aware that this whole business is some sort of ridiculous scam set up by my captors.
• So I say a few words, tell him to get another job or something, and ask him to give me a lift down to the beach, which he does very obligingly.
• I’m starting to wonder if they’ve fired this man instead of the other one on purpose… but it’s all so suspect - scheming all over it - I decide it’s better not to think about it at all.
• I go into my massage and the women there look at me like they know who I am, and what’s happened/still happening to me in Bali: sad and distressed, scared, unable to speak about it.

Walking into yoga class

• There’s a bunch of drones above us, it’s 6am, they’re up all day too.
• I start to wave at them and make hearts. They don’t turn up anymore.
• There’s robot birds, bees, a massive snake (although this might have been real, just very surprising), and a lizard too. You can tell somehow, they’re not quite right. I’m amazed.
• On my way home from a walk to the beach one day, I see a cloud with an arrow in it, and another one with a heart.
• I know it’s robo-clouds because they’re framed the same way, and God does not do clouds like that.
• I’m amazed.
• I message my captors telling them I’d be happy to talk to NASA but not for a few years; there’s more important work to do first.
• They’re distracting me, flirting.
• It’s annoying.

Snake

• On Thursday morning, as I’m leaving the yoga school, a snake passes me on the road.
• It is sliding out of one rice-paddy field, slithering across the road right in front of my feet, and down into the rice-paddy field opposite.
• It’s so astonishing I thought it had to be a robot.
• Snakes warn me something evil is coming, or before me, and I used to see them in Dénia before “events” too; significantly on the 12^th June on my way to class there was a snake in the curb that I went over to say hello to (I like snakes).
• The Loka Yoga snake was easily the biggest snake of them all.
• It stopped me dead in my tracks; it was massive, girth of a 2 litre coke bottle or bigger, about 5 meters long although I didn’t see the front of it so it could have been longer.
• As I said, I thought it was a robot it was SO EXTRAORDINARY… and there were robots about.
• But snakes do like to warn me. As do beetles.
• The day before Winston May (for a long time nearly) destroyed my life, three beetles came out of the chimney in my bedroom.
• The latest beetle in Jerusalem was dead. And I believe that’s a very good omen for me, for the children and babies, for the team, and for the world.

Thursday and Friday night of the first week

• Thursday night something happens while I’m sleeping and I dream about it.
• Two men, and nursing (breast-feeding) symbols, and me, and an ache in my left ovary and an orgasm.
• Very weird.
• The next night, Friday, a nightmare.
• I dream my mother drowns (I’m not sure but she might have been murdered).
• I find her body in a circular concrete vat of water you might see in a field. She’s wearing her old brown coat. I try to pull her out, she’s too heavy.
• I wake up devastated, my heart thumping to the same rhythm as the music in a car parked outside the house.
• Close to the end of the dream I had also sensed two men in my bedroom and one of them is putting something up my rear end while I’m lying on my right side.
• I get up and email my mother to see if she is OK.
• (Incidentally, I annoyed them over a month later in Jerusalem by mentioning Kathleen Love and right after I did so, when I went for a walk, people kept walking past me suggesting my mother was having a heart attack… fatuous, like someone else said, unnecessary, time-wasting).
• I’m hoping at the time she’ll reply and tell me my dad’s been arrested, but she doesn’t, she replies they’re all well.
• My bottom feels like something strange happened - I never felt like this in Dénia. I think they must apply numbing creams or something - and I have excessive gas for a couple of days too.
• Next morning God speaks directly to my captors, and says: you stupid idiots.
• On the walk in to class, Saint Michael is in the clouds, fierce and furious, red and black as the sun rises.
• Anyone who has seen the angels in the clouds will know exactly what I’m talking about, there were some in Thailand at Christmas but they were loving and kind. This was war and fury.
• I wonder what they did to me, and what He did to them… or was/is He going to build up to it.
• The following morning, all my classmates seem sad. None of them want (or are instructed) to speak to me.
• I look for any place they might get into my house while I’m in bed (unconscious) and block it off.
• I sleep very well from then on and even the callous in my palm that I had been making while asleep starts to disappear.

An infected spot near my right groin

• I noticed this first in April 2026 in Dublin, a spot which doesn’t squeeze like normal spots to the right of my genital area.
• It had been quite painful, also in an unusual way.
• It reappears in Bali, and I notice it and pick it and it doesn’t behave like a normal spot, you can’t squeeze it, but it is painful and does become pussy over the next few days.
• It looks like a pinhole surgery wound.
• Also there’s a similar spot in my left groin that reappears which I have not seen for a good while, maybe not since November the year before when I was in Bangkok at the Anantara… there was so much fatuousness there too it was quite astonishing…
• It may have reappeared January in Dorset too.
• Again, the spot doesn’t behave like the boils I usually get there at all, the skin is so thin all over this area from the strong cream I used for the boils in 2019 that any wounds in this area, and the healing of them, do not behave as expected.
• My view is that all criminal sedated-surgery is easily verifiable on examination.
• The theme of pregnancy and babies had been suggested to me quite intensely in Israel on module 3 in August 2025, without anyone formally saying anything, just hints and suggestions, but very clear ones; Project Jonathan as they kept saying online… and I was thinking they were suggesting I had a baby at my age, and I have been excited about that anyway since August 2024 when the gypsies started their baby-manipulation tech on me - again on request from the CIA? - and I realized they’d gotten a baby in this way from Natalia and countless other women for their baby-rape porn-production.
• I believe these suggestions about Jonathan were set up so that I would completely misidentify who was behind the egg-thievery if I ever got suspicious, or survived Loka Yoga, for any reason.
• Bastards!

A meeting with someone important in Bali who knows what happened at the Hyatt in May 2024

• On the Sunday, we all went for a walk and had lunch - Vincent and his mother did not attend this.
• At the time, I think they’re doing this to give me some small reason for all their insane and criminal activity.
• Now I’ve lost all faith I ever had in these people, I wonder if they’re blackmailing the Bali businessman they invited who was somehow involved in Polygon’s sedated-rape scam in Bali in May 2024, when Elon attended, or perhaps they’re threatening him with my presence to make sure he doesn’t tell - especially if they were all told I’d be murdered and here I am!
• Perhaps at the same time they’re trying to convince me that someone is going to do something about the baby-rape industrialists - but I expect they just thought I’m an idiot.
• They’ve put millions into this lie. Millions and millions.
• All this for my eggs? And then what. No doubt bad intentions.
• The VIP they’re targeting is also, incidentally, the owner of the holiday housing estate I’m staying at, Cidana Putra; 22-7 lock up as it were.
• The psychological nonsense went on all day; it was pretty intolerable except I had fallen in love with all of my classmates by then (from the morning classes) so it wasn’t too bad.
• It was funny though.
• I’d be chatting to one of them, and they’d get a flea in their ear about something, and run off, or make excuses and stop the talk, or bring up something totally tangential for no reason.
• I think management must have been worried about them loving me back, in case that messed with finishing me off a week or so later, amiright?, of course I am.
• One time, it was when I was describing to an American ex-military how I’m probably related to General George Patton (not confirmed yet) but sometimes I even look like him a bit. She disappeared in seconds, pretending to look at flowers.
• Or another would be told how to act with me, and be a bit of a brute, and sometimes it was so ridiculous I found it quite amusing.
• One of them was pretending to be an Israeli on the bus, and asking me questions as if I was seeking asylum.
• Another was pretending to be a government official in charge of the “bridge”.
• Another official-looking Brit - who I have seen before and remembered where, then forgot, maybe at a retreat somewhere in the UK - was asking me about my intentions, would I ever come back to the UK, that sort of thing.
• They were all actors.
• It was total bananas.
• And then they realized I knew exactly what was going on, and this was happening in a non-threatening way to them, so they brought me in a tiny bit.
• I think that’s God.
• Anyway.
• At lunch that day was (hint-suggest-nudge apparently) the important landowner in Bali who had known what had happened with Polygon at the Hyatt.
• Did he organize Elon’s visit that week?
• Had we been visiting him on the boat that day with Anthony Matlala?
• And the lunch was all a bit cloak and dagger, and hush hush, and I was getting used to all this.
• And all the yoga students (agents/actors) were prompting me to say things, and, we’re sitting right beside this Bali VIP, and, never one to disappoint, after the man (my yoga chum aka agent) had told me, loudly, that he’d been unconscious for a whole week years before, and he didn’t know what had happened to him during this time but he’d had PTSD ever since, I got very cross and said rather loudly:
• I hate it that they did that to you. They’re such shit bastards aren’t they!
• And the other agent lady who I love sitting in between this VIP man and his wife and our classmate spat out her tea!
• It was hilarious.
• So, a positive result of my Bali stay was I have been thinking about May 2024’s events more closely, and remembering even more weird things, and realizing that I was probably sedated and raped for most of that week by my employer, crypto-giant Polygon Labs who even have a lawyer Rebecca Rettig who gives speeches about crypto currency in Washington - well whaddaya know!
• I made a lot of updates to the statement in Bali after that.
• And I have to wonder who’s turn it’s been on their other off-sites since then, and before too, and whether this is now an industry expectation: rape the female colleague you hate on our off-sites… she’ll never know!!!! … and if she does find out, don’t worry, we’ll make sure the secret services silence her.
• Do you think they add it to job ads and specs, special events maybe, like they say at the swingers club in Dénia?

Cats can survive on sea-water

• I’m sitting with the Aussie guy.
• People keep bring drinks for us and putting them on the table.
• I’m not drinking anything anyone brings me.
• The woman who spat out her tea, brings us some smoothies.
• I swap mine with his, and say sorry.
• He then tells me that cats can survive on sea water, which isn’t true.
• I don’t know why he would say this.
• Is he suggesting they tested this out while they were drugging me? They controlled everything I ate and drank for a few days.
• I think it’s BS.

Another criminal is brought around the world for viewing

• This time, they bring Rene from Australia; I’ve literally just remembered her at the turtle beach and written about the strange incident with her in 2003 just two or three days before.
• It’s only a short hop to Australia so they could have hauled her out quite easily, especially if she was in prison which is likely.
• She’s sitting with an agent by the pool one afternoon when I turn up.
• She keeps the towel over her face.
• She’s embarrassed, ashamed.
• They leave soon after I arrive.
• I never see either of them again.

Glastonbury

• I see Glastonbury Tor from the windows at Loka Yoga every morning in class. It’s such a strong vision, I decide to tell them all after seeing it every morning for days.
• Once I’ve told them all, it’s gone and I don’t see it anymore. And that’s nearly as surprising.
• Around about the same time, if not the exact same day, I see a photo on Facebook that looks like God drove over Glastonbury and left His tyre-print in the clouds.

• I think this is related to Fiona’s friend who was murdered in Glastonbury and I wonder who got it.

Oh, saving the world, you know, nothing special

• One morning the Aussie guys asks me how I’m doing.
• He says, what do you do all day?
• I say: oh, you know, saving the world, that sort of thing, nothing special.
• I’m so delighted I got to say this to someone :)

They relentlessly pretend to be something they’re not

• I look around me and I see a multi-million dollar budget: houses, vehicles, multiple salaried individuals, a newly refurbished yoga studio building, intricate costly set ups with very rich people, it’s astonishing.
• I think probably 80% of occupants at the Holiday Inn while I was there were spies too.
• They must be spending an absolute fortune; is that why they keep suggesting cheap hotels to me when I have nowhere to go?
• Every time they get close to convincing me they’re someone else, I remember how much money they’re spending, and especially the drones, people, and robots.
• I remind myself of how little they care about me, and that gets me straight.
• I notice how desperate they are for me to believe their lie: even painting little white and blue stripes on the window sill on one of the houses backing onto me.
• It was just getting ridiculous.
• I remember their silence, how they refused to help me when I’ve been asking for help with justice continually, and my health and wellbeing when I notice odd injuries, and instead all they’ve done is stalk me relentlessly wherever I go.
• I can’t figure it out.
• I tell Taryn that I haven’t figured out why what happened happened on the first few days of the course to make me decide I’m only coming to yoga class (drugs and psychological torture), but I tell her that when I do figure out a good way to tell her, I will.
• She keeps asking me about it; but I know she’s trying to provoke me into a poor me reaction which she can quickly gaslight and dismiss, so I don’t give her the opportunity for that.
• I have to wonder if they treat men in unique positions like mine the same? Did they treat Steve this badly in the beginning? It seems not but perhaps men are more easily controlled.
• Is this why Antonio stays hidden? I don’t blame him.
• It takes a while to figure out what they’re really after - it is still utterly illogical and irrational - and when I realize they tried to set me and Steve up for offspring purposes, and when that didn’t work out for them, they decided they’d just do it anyway, (and they’d already been doing it anyway anyway), I’m pretty astonished, and upset, and understand completely why God called them stupid idiots.
• But, again, it’s all His Plan, so I’m sure that all of this mess will serve some unique purpose of His we can’t guess at, and then we can get on with the world-saving.
• I realize why God’s Plans have to be so unique and unexpected because there is so much against Him in this violent and violating world full of the self-loathing.

They show me some more recent porn

• I keep asking them, telling them I’m ready to see it now.
• Eventually, they show me a still with the details shadowed out.
• I can see it’s definitely me, however.
• I’m naked and apparently sitting up, although the camera man could be taking the photo from above, I guess, while my head is propped up on a pillow.
• Incidentally, my silhouetted head is exactly the same shape (maybe size too, I’ve got a big ole bonce) as General George Patton’s, my ancestor (not yet confirmed but likely).
• I’m looking down my naked body - I’m not sure if my eyes are open but I guess they will be as that’s how the Dénia gang’s sedating substances function - see Zoe’s daughter Yasmin in 2008.
• Around my groin and genital area is the back of a man’s head. You can see messy hair.
• I try to figure out the date of this outrage but it’s too difficult as my face is in shadow.
• I guess it could have been anytime up to poisoning in October 2024 when I started to put excessive weight on around my vital organs, because I couldn’t see any evidence of that.
• The closest image to my head that I saw on this fake account pic on Substack was how I looked from about 2015-2019 I would say.

• This image is now in online search by formal and allegedly un-shadowy law-enforcement teams.
• I do remember the last time I really felt slim like that was in Madrid in May 2024 just before Bali when I bought some small-size jeans which I now billow out of.
• I wonder if the poisoning with intent to kill began straight after, and I started to develop inflammation around my liver area at that time which suddenly made my yoga practice deteriorate and has similarities to Maria’s horrific experiences in Dénia too.
• Or could multiple pinhole surgeries since April 2025 - where my abdomen would have been repeatedly filled with CO2 gas - have caused this?

I hear myself having an orgasm, or am I shouting for help?

• Someone in the next room plays back a recording from porn of me having an orgasm.
• I’m not sure if I’m sedated or conscious; it’s sounds raw, machine-like - like one of my colleagues said to me at Adaptive in 2018. You’re a machine, Katharine.
• It’s good to get a taste of what’s coming.
• I tell them online that I’m ready.
• Is the world though?
• Will they snicker or vomit?
• Is that going to be the Lord’s test (not cricket)?

They tell me what happened to Lorraine

• I also found out - Taryn told me basically - what happened to Lorraine Blackbourn that caused her to commit suicide.
• I didn’t get it or write about it for a while, and so they even demonstrated the torture-porn rope-ties on a snoopy video AI-tailored just for me.
• Then I started to mention it in here.
• Was the rope blue?
• I added the information to the front page because Lorraine is the key to our story.

They tell me about Chris Ludwick’s excel porn database

• They tell me they’ve heard about, or accessed maybe (he was hacked a few months back and I noticed and told him), Chris Ludwick’s database recording the collection of porn he has of me, and others no doubt.
• It’s on excel apparently.
• My view is he gave the VHS’s to Mel to look after - I think Mel has/had an allotment in Hornsey somewhere.
• I told them that on my Samsung ages ago - which I believe is full controlled by the CIA - so if no-one else received that message, bingo!

Snoopy videos

• The Snoopy AI videos started on Air France in May.
• There were so many in Bali, I think I was stressing them out because I was wanting more and more and they could barely keep up with my demand.
• Snoopy is supposed to be me, and Woodstock is my love with a trumpet and a little green fisherman’s hat I’ve described seeing him wearing - but someone from Dénia will have had to confirm the design.
• Sometimes Snoopy and Woodstock switch roles and Snoopy is the intuitive artist who they’ve given unlimited supplies to create with, and Woodstock never shuts up.
• Oh, whole loads of information about my love: how he is clumsy at posh dinners, sad about something, is a father, has a life partner, all this madness and lies, has to move house now I’m on my way soon, tomorrow, today, Friday, at 9am, etc. etc., and it’ll be a double-propeller helicopter (meme began in Samui in December with a woman pretending to be UN, then fed again in Dorset with the field they were pretending was a helipad, then constant on Snoopy videos, just endless lies…) just to keep me distracted…
• Extraordinary.
• What TIME WASTERS!!
• It takes a long time to figure out why they would bother distracting me endlessly like this.
• My widowhood continues; one criminal gang seamlessly taking the place of another.

They’re sure to tell me they know everything about me

• Another conversation after class, another confirmation they know everything about me.
• They would repeat my sentences verbatim back at me from blogs I wrote in 2013, ideas from my books, conversations I’ve had online with the gypsies, for example.
• Another attempt at triggering me was by mentioning an unusual injury I have in my solar plexus region which I have noticed for over a decade while doing certain yoga poses.
• Oh, but I was talking about something completely different, specifically how I haven’t felt well since May 2024, and something has been affecting my yoga poses since that time.
• I started suggesting liver inflammation (but I think it’s swelling from repeated CO2 gas put into my abdomen).
• Taryn quickly changes the subject and starts talking about the funny pain in her solar plexus region (my words verbatim) she’s had for years that only happens in certain poses and she doesn’t know what it is.
• I don’t know what it is, she repeats.
• This must really freak people out who are not expecting it.
• Do they think they can control people like this?
• Is that the core process, fear and domination?
• I’m a bit like… yawn, now.
• Or does she know what it is - that it comes from repeated abdominal surgeries since Bali in May 2024 - and she needs to change the subject, quick.

The Justice Defense Fund reach out

• I receive an email from the Justice Defense Fund, an organization which is going after the Big Porn crime scene, and the Internet’s saturation with online sex crimes.
• Except, they probably reached out on request by the CIA.
• They give me the details of two organizations that can help find evidence of the porn of unconsenting and sedated victims in the historic record.

• I contact them - even though I know the apparent law-enforcers around me have the whole collection already, they’re keeping quiet and they’re too busy bullying me.

Sunset Portal by NCVIC

• This website will do an online search for images of you in porn: https://sunset.ncvic.org/.
• I have 15 images up now, from when I was 16 up to last year.

• And I added some porn names too (porn names: such a good joke and a laugh, snicker - I wonder if those marvelous men use them on the children and babies too).

Alecto AI

• I contact Alecto AI too.
• As I’m browsing their website, I see a reference to investor OKX on their website.

• I remember the OKX guy trying to grind with me at the Bali beach club just after a mass-filmed sedated-gang-rape session with one victim, me.
• I inform the JDF about this clear conflict of interest, and wonder if Breeze was at the beach club too.
• No one ever replies; surprise, surprise.

Yet another (fake) bridge collapses, again

• The way they set things up to make me believe I was going to be taken to safety while they subjected me to internal invasive surgeries while sedated is criminal, oh wait, yeah sorry forgot…
• It’s what they do.
• I think they’re twinned with the porn-gangs of Dénia.
• What is the airspeed velocity of a coconut-laden scanning swallow?

• European or African?
• How do you know so much about swallows?
• Well, a king has to know about all sorts of things you know.

Monty Python

• It’s extraordinary how many of the sketches in Monty Python’s Meaning of Life run through our story in hilarious ways.
• I particularly like the deadly fluffy bunny.
• God obviously set that all up long ago to make sure we never think too badly of the British <3

I decide to leave

• I hear “pack” in yoga class on the Saturday morning.
• I’ve realized that the intuitive agent business can also plant ideas in people’s heads and this explains many of the thoughts I have which feel alien, and this one feels a bit alien too, but I like it, it’s good advice.
• It’s time to go. This is a farce.
• I have also been reading the weekly Torah portions, and how this three-weeks of mourning will one day become a celebration. I have to wonder about my role in all this, and I realize if there’s even the tiniest chance that I might have something to do with such celebrations, I should leave, and go to Israel, as soon as possible, otherwise there could be a whole other year of this bollocks!!
• On the way to the airport in the taxi (a Bali Yoga Loka man is the driver), I see people leaning out of passenger-side car windows while coming towards us taking pictures of me in the car. It’s very exaggerated. Thank you for that.
• After check in, I see a woman in tears walking towards me and she mouths thank you - I assume to offset the obvious we’re making sure you get to the airport of the previous point.
• I told Taryn when she asked that I was going to Beijing to pick up my hiking gear.
• Something happens at Bali airport, I think someone walked past me as I was looking for alternative flights to Tel Aviv and said, please try, and so I decide to fly to Israel instead.
• Hackers desperately try to make it impossible for me to get an ETA for Israel by making my passport photo fail every time I send it, until a lovely lady, an angel from Emirates, takes my phone and does it herself.
• She sees the confirmation email from the Israeli government, but minutes later the email has disappeared.
• It went into all mail instead of my inbox, for some weird reason.
• The angel sorts it all out for me, and I’m away.
• They put a CIA man next to me in business class. It’s clear he’s just been called out at the last minute.

Comparing the criminal porn-gangs with unscrupulous and insane security service activities

Criminal gang type	Budget	Core process	End goal	Methods
Porn gang	€/£ Thousands - as little as possible, slave labour mostly	Violence and violation	Criminal porn production by any means necessary, always worsening in step with porn-addict appetites	Sedation, drugging, poisoning, psychological torture, hacking, murder, serious sex offending
Security services aka The Mayor of Shark City	$/£ Multi-millions, thousands of salaried individuals	Violence and violation	Whatever they want, often nothing to do with security, mostly coming from insane logic based on core process	Sedation, drugging, poisoning, psychological torture, hacking, murder, clandestine surgeries

Re-membering

• I used to say that a lot on X to the porn-gangs.
• Remember.
• God is a lost limb for so many.
• They don’t even realize.
• I can tell you I paid nearly £3000 for the course and I wouldn’t dare ask for a refund!
• I mean, can you imagine them reaching a hand out after spending so many millions on me and getting what they wanted when they despise me like they do?
• No, they don’t operate this way: loving and kind.
• The irony is that loving and kind is true strength - and that doesn’t include saying be kind to everyone and being quite the opposite.
• Auto-violence and violation as core process is a mighty declaration of weakness.
• In any case, they owe me billions since Tanya (Tanya!! omg) recruited me for the intuitive program in April 2006, without my consent or conscious awareness, and I helped bring down a real thorn in their side, single-handedly, while they knew I could be counted on to be raped, murdered, whatever… and no-one would give a damn.
• Actually, I think I was recruited right after Lockerbie and Winston May and his gang were tasked by the CIA to start up the required trauma and immersion into porn world I would need to fit right in in Dénia. And I think I know how and who set that up too.
• And that is the main reason their attitude towards me prevails, while leading me into fiery furnaces they cannot even have imagined back then; that I, an innocent tax-paying civilian that has done the impossible, am utterly worthless, apart from my eggs which they’ll literally murder to get hold of.
• Adams and the porn-gangs of Spain knew, didn’t they, and that’s why they were astronomically outrageous with me, isn’t it.
• Everything that real criminals did to me was because they knew they’d never have to answer to it. They could do what they liked.
• The files on me must fill a room.
• May the mighty Pit of the Salmon Mousses be the last unprosperous weapon I have to deal with.

• And may most of the women, at least, tasked with the unspeakable do the right thing for once in their lives.
• I guess God is going to give me my babies back, all of them, and the house in London. We prayed for that, me and Tona-tone-tone.

BAU at the conservatory

• Today, nearly three years after I first complained to the Generalitat about cyber-and-physical stalking by their employees - but in fact I was being drugged, poisoned, sedated, raped repeatedly while unconscious, live-streamed onto porn-networks via the spy-cams in my home and at the conservatory’s classrooms, whilst being terrorized by criminal pornographers operating freely at the conservatory of Dénia - teachers and staff implicated in serious crimes against students and foreigners visiting the area, including murder, continue their guardianship over hundreds of minors.

• Did Paqui say bona?
• Yes, this is the same Elsa whose pic was sent to me on fake accounts. See reference and screenshot in the section from October 2023.
• Is she wearing a wedding dress?
• Are they literally taking the piss now?
• Have they gotten purposefully worse while everyone knows and no-one does anything about it?
• That’s what evil does, it just carries on for as long as it can.
• I bet everyone has known for decades.

Israel

• After an interesting arrival <3 I spend a few days in Tel Aviv before heading to Jerusalem where I will stay until the end of August.
• I stay at the Dan Panorama for two weeks, then the YMCA for four or more weeks in total. It’s hard to keep up with these things.
• I go to the Wall every day nearly; certainly every day I was at the YMCA I went to the Wall.

The pangolin at Ben Gurion

• When I arrive at Tel Aviv, I have to wait a short time before I’m able to leave the airport.
• So I’m sitting waiting for the visa woman to call me over, and as I’m sitting there, all of a sudden the pangolin walks by.
• Well, it’s a man I recognize immediately as a trumpet teacher from Dénia.
• I notice also that I’m unable to look at him for more than a glance, and then I look down and away.
• I can only look at the man in short glances; something’s making me look away quickly every time I look at him.
• I’m also scared, it’s a fear reaction.
• I find this weird and inexplicable.
• A good few weeks later, I realize that I have never consciously seen this man before and he never attended conservatory classes, but nevertheless he’s a switcheroo-porn trumpet teacher.
• At that moment, I add him to the list of trumpet teachers as number seven.
• I also realize he’s the pangolin mentioned regularly online on fake X accounts.
• Another curious thing is that I remembered having the same only-able-to-look-at-him-in-short-glances reaction to a statue outside the cave at Sainte Baume of the “bad” criminal to the left of Jesus.
• I realize that sedated-porn training includes violence towards a target while sedated with animal training techniques whereby if she sees the rapist in the future, she won’t be able to look directly at him without quickly looking away.
• The porn-gangs require this reaction to include animals in the ever-growing group of living beings the target believes is one man.
• The fact that I see this man in Ben Gurion airport is perplexing to me, and I don’t figure out for even longer that everyone was lying to me about Antonio Ruiz being rescued and taken to Israel in August 2025.
• Instead the UN kidnapped a whole bunch of them, all together! And they already knew who was involved in the switcheroo-porn at the conservatory, long before I figured out there was more than one man involved!!!
• WOW!
• I update my notes accordingly, and then, on 11^th September I see Antonio Ruiz in Lourdes and I realize they told me an even more wicked lie because he never went to Israel at all!
• I mean, talk about lies upon lies upon lies… they probably forgot the original one mostly, and we know newbies to the game will never hear about that one.
• Let’s make amends on that.

All over me like scabies at the Dan Panorama Jerusalem

• The Americans are there pretty much immediately; ice-cold women who I have no doubt would murder me in an eye-blink and really, really, want to.
• But, curiously, they’ve brought thousands of jubilant Spanish along with them too - it’s a last minute tour group of some variety.
• Some of these are obviously embassy staff.
• Did the Spanish decide to visit themselves when they heard I’d escape the CIA’s Bali torture chamber?
• I make some joke about The Mayor of Shark City (it’s been nearly three years they have refused to do anything for the babies and children of Dénia now).

• They’re in the next rooms, the corridor, the mousses, Spanish agents and embassy staff have inhabited the whole floor around my room; just like every hotel I stay in these days is packed with agents.
• Not only that, but the Americans added something to my constipation remedy in Bali which makes me constipated.
• It’s like they sprayed the herbs with Immodium.
• Every time I take a herb, I get even more constipated.
• What’s interesting is that, I had the tub sitting on the shelf in my prison-cell, oh I mean holiday house, in Bali while in their clutches, and all these mosquitoes were sitting all over it. Nowhere else. Never happened before.
• So I was thinking; they’ve done something to these haven’t they.
• I left the herbs for my friends, so we can confirm that.
• But the mousses and their Spanish slaves, online and in the corridor, do confirm it when I complain about it online.
• The mousses despise me. There’s no reason for it.
• So what’s going on exactly?
• I’m soon to find out… one criminal gang has replaced another, but that was years ago, and I’m nearly certain now that Inma and her pal Paloma - my friend from Madrid tasked with keeping tabs on me from way back in 2005 - are working for the Americans too.
• Truth be told, if you’re Spanish, you automatically work for the Americans; amiright? Of course I am.
• So that’s why no-one’s been able to do a thing about the criminal sex-offending in Dénia and the public and government school systems of Spain.
• ! WOW !
• And that also explains the unusually jubilant nature of all the Spanish in the hotel; as if they were celebrating the end of something really horrible!

Alex in Mamilla

• The first Friday Sabbath evening I’m there, I bump into a man on my way back to the hotel from the Kotel.
• He introduces himself as Alex.
• He’s a venture capitalist, he says.
• I remember Mrs Wasserman had a nephew called Alex involved in IT, or something like that.
• He’s on the phone with three religious Jewish men, and he shows me his phone screen, and I wave hi.
• It was such a short conversation but in minutes he knew I had a PhD in Computer Science and he wanted to know more about that.
• I told him I was a technical writer, but he wasn’t interested in that.
• Then I remembered my app, the forgivenet: https://1frgvn.com/ and told him about it.
• He got really excited.
• He’s asking me some questions: so what about the token, what does it do?
• I tell him it’s a global currency of love.
• He gets scared at this point, and scurries off into the hotel.
• I know right. It’s big. Like I told my brother in 2013. Like Truman tells his best mate as the conspiracy collapses.

Meeting Shifra outside the Kotel

• Another morning I’m coming back from the Kotel; it’s the Jewish Valentine’s day.
• I bump into Shifra and her friend.
• Shifra attended both the Transforming Touch courses I assisted on in 2025 in Jerusalem and is involved in a centre for sexually abused women - I believe.
• I see her out of the corner of my eye and recognize her and say hi.
• She says something about how nice it was for me to recognize her all out of context and everything and introduces me to her friend as a healer.
• Katharine’s a healer, she says.
• We chat for a short time.
• Her friend is getting married in the evening.
• I say: we should get Steve back to Jerusalem and do it all again.
• She says: that would be magical.
• We part; as she leave she says she loves me.
• I tell her that I love her too, online when I get back to the hotel - because I know everyone is watching everything I do.
• I’m curious about this “chance” meeting; more curious that no-one wanted to connect when they heard I was in town, or practice, or whatever - I have a table to use in the city after all.
• And I’m more curious that at the time we did meet, I was still under the impression I had friends, and my statement about Steve confirmed this.