Writers are angels, cops are pigs

I want to leave and not leave a forwarding address. My fantasy is to only be reachable by email. Actually, my ultimate fantasy involves a bit more than that, but as far as communication goes, it no longer matters whether I am two miles or 3,000 miles away. And I get off on the vagary of that notion. I want to be hidden behind the curtain of location. I want to be ephemeral and dissolve physically.