You can't touch me

... here


While I lay in the wagon looking up through the flap at the night sky, the beauty of the multitudes of heavenly bodies, I didn't truly see them. There could have been so many interpretations of what the Haruspex had said, there could have been many interpreatations of what Cana had spoken to me about but I was looking further than they could see, to places they didn't understand existed.
Each inward fold and outward extension, I could feel the drying of the soft feathery down, the air moving and forming in a gentle breeze carrying whispers that would magnify, expand in volume with time and distance.
I spoke to the one that held me captive, feeling the pain begin to dull to less than an ache, to less than the throbbing of my pulse, to a peacefulness that matched the soothing breeze let in through the crevices.

I know what I want. I know what I'm doing. You can't touch me ...
here

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