Back to the mythical village of Celebration (think a quiet Hill Valley from Back to the Future) for an amble around the lake and lunch in a typical American diner. A loaded Philly Cheesesteak Sandwich served up at the counter by a busy and friendly Hispanic staff more than does the job. Normally you'd eat this by hand but a sandwich on the scale of things here needs to be carefully and surgically consumed with a fork and knife. Once eaten you know that it's all you really need to eat that day. I feel like a snake who has eaten a pig and then eaten another smaller pig for good measure.
Even though it's hot outside a further wander around the clean white pavements is necessary to aid the struggles of the feeble human digestion process. Life for the residents (or patients?) seems like a strange lazy procession of choreographed dog walking, slow cycling, rhythmic exercise regimes and sitting in the sunshine staring into phones and other irritating devices whilst maintaining the look of having a sense of purpose. These androids in their silent electric buggies and sun visors don't fool me for a minute. This is the land of the hypnotised robot, shopping desperately and looking for meaning and value but blinded by the continuous sunshine and the prospect of a visit by Hillary Clinton, their brave new Messiah. I could happen any time soon, and of course one fine day she will rule and then Walt Disney will rise from his grave or cryogenic containment device and take them all, cast members and fully paid up millionaires, to a better, more promised and even cleaner land.
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