Floating on the ethereal wings of pure consciousness, we are unaware of all that passes outside. We are both calm and nervous, and something tickles at our skin. Four hands clasped together, we feel only the skin of the palms pressed together, and mostly the heartbeat within. Whispers at the back of our mind, images that flash and twinkle as they pass by us carried on a river's current. The stars fill up above or below us, and a tidal wave is held at bay by the flutter of a butterfly's wings. We smile, we frown, we laugh. Concentrate Little Wing, we tell us. We are, we promise. A tingling sensation as we float face up on the ocean's surface. Below a cacophony of memories and thoughts try to pull us down below. We start to sink distracted by a familiar heart aching face that we have never seen before. We pull us up gently with teary eyes. Not today, not right now. Ok.