Delicate now, I lay my bones out one by one. The first is found to contain a colony of bees. Another is home to a sparrow which comes and goes through a hole pecked 1.5 inches in diameter. A third has fully succumbed to dust and is held in a cloud-shaped jar which fluctuates in ways of shape, as is the habit of cloud-like entities.

When time has come to dissect my skull, I call out one last entreaty of the physical world: a dinner invitation. Serving out a platter of ****** features, I cease to exist.