From the precipice where the walkable level ends and the horizon collapses into a watercolour of lands falling over one another below, and you survey everything with the condensed perspective of a cloud, watching – with a detachment that makes everything look both relative and adorable – the ecstasies, anxieties and challenges of the natives down there, and once you have smiled to yourself, maybe even extending to a shake of the head in disbelief at how unnecessary their actions and reactions seem from up here, there is no other direction to take but to river back to the hospitable origin whence you came, where you will tell your family and friends, and every local willing to listen, of this remarkable discovery, and who knows how happy the possibility of visiting this vertically deposed world will make some, and how fearful the possibility a visit from it could make others, and what legal attention may have to be given to either scenario… And amid all the consideration it starts to rain, and you wonder where that cloud could have come from, and you smile to yourself again, this time less assured of what you are (not) seeing.


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