She once told me-- She, you understand-- that I'd know when it happened, like jumping off the edge of a great cliff. I believed in this cliff long before we had that conversation. I called it the jumping off place, and I have lived there for ages.

Well, it didn't happen quite like She said, but that more had to do with the fact that the cliff, as it were, had been steadily eroding by virtue of the great ocean at the bottom of it. And me, pouring pans of salt water into it, praying for tidal waves.

So let's say I woke up one morning to find that i'd rolled off the cliff in the middle of the night, and I rememebred a dream in which I conciously decided to do so. And when I looked back, and thought of myriad flower-fields on the top of the cliff and the way I used to dance through them, I felt nostalgic and a little sad, but I could never re-create it, and I didn't think I wanted to.

I felt like my Daemon had taken a form.

I looked around and said "oh, when did that happen."

I knew things I never want to admit.

Innocence is lost, but Paradise is attainable.

Hi.

I'm flying, now.

<<agé chose>>

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