I think of friends as trees, growing to and from one another, but you grew all by yourself.
You had scars and scratches on the bark. Your leaves hit the light like no other tree did. Our branches grew out to the same sun.

I think of a garden when i think of you, i think of strong stone pathways, crossing carefully through flowerbeds of secrets, laughter, and long face-time calls. Whenever we walked through that garden together, i counted every step and i watched every flower sprout carefully. I would water them and you would make sure they got enough sunlight, you always insisted on carrying the watering can. I carried the shovel high on my shoulder, it was heavy but i didn’t mind, the shovel was shiny and sharp.  

I remember sharing secrets with the snapdragons, the way we danced next to the daffodils, how we laughed with the lilacs, cried behind the carnations, how we imagined new lives beneath the irises.

I’ll never forget the way your boots squeaked when you threaded through our garden. I always loved the way they sounded, i never told you though. You always say i pay too much attention to things.

We both hated leaving the garden, but we knew we would come back the next day, we always did.

Sometimes people wanted to see our garden.

We didn’t want people in our garden, but we weren’t rude hosts. We showed them the snapdragons, the daffodils, the lilacs, the carnations, and even the irises. He didn’t think the lilacs were the right color purple yet and she didn’t know we even grew carnations and they all insulted the irises.

But we didn’t mind.

They wanted to plant their own seeds in our garden. But it wasn’t theirs.

Our garden had grown. Plant life filled the fields, flowers bloomed bolus petals, fruit was ripening trees were treacherously tall, there was color. I liked blue. Your favorite was green. I liked green.

One day it stormed. It didn’t rain. Rain was good. It stormed. It boomed and it clapped and it roared. I was scared but you weren’t. I wasn’t scared.

Things were different after the storm.

When we came back. The fence had fallen down. Fruits were bruised. Vegetables were browned. Trees had branches snapped off. Flowers were wilted. The soil was flooded. But the stone remained untouched.

You didn’t water the daffodils but i didn’t mind i just stepped on the snapdragons but you didn’t like that.

Flowers started wilting but you couldn’t see it from the outside. We forgot to water them. We said we would remind each other, but we didn’t come back to the garden as much.

And this time we came back you didn’t want to carry the watering can. I even watered them this time. Sometimes you took the shovel, but you dragged it on the ground. It chipped the stone but you said we would fix it later.

We couldn’t fix it. Hell, we didn’t even try.

This time we sulked by the snapdragons, we determined damage next to the daffodils, we loathed the lilacs, we cut the carnations, we still imagined new lives by the irises.

Your boots didn’t squeak the same. I could barely stand it anymore.

By now we both stopped coming to the garden together. You left before I saw you.
I started seeing you in other places. You dressed differently in other places.

Your hair no longer kisses your shoulders. It’s tied back tight.
You wear jeans with patches covering holes in which only I know exist.
Your eyes are locked like the gates.
Your boots don’t even squeak anymore.

I still go to the garden alone
I don’t know if you come anymore
But i never harvest the crops we planted together.
I leave the gate unlocked.

I think of friends as trees, growing to and from one another. But your ax cries bullets. And our trees grow outward to two different suns.

Bribing for Uthamaki survival,
Made Kenya a fortune’s fool,
Not only Kenya but those that gave
And received bribes of all sorts,
Job favour and money favour
To make Uthamaki an eternal kingdom,
They all chewed un-toothsome slices
Of the public fortune’s fools,

They were bribed by cars, money, jobs,
Lands, upmarket houses. And all the stuffs
Of bribery regalia, and then they went dumb,
On truth and facts of the day; them; Chiloba and
Chebukat, dumb they went holus-bolus in the manacle
Of the claws of Uthamaki and its jostle for eternity,
Like the victims of slaughter in Tolstoyan epics.
They hated the truth and fell in love with falsehood,
Feeding children of Kenya on the brutality of Gebelawi,
Faked elections and police brutality in the alley of Samantha,
She died seeing the club of a full geared anti-riot police, it was
All but power of the bribe in the vacuum of conscience,
The true desire of our ages, ages, ages, ages; desire for ages,
A bribe can ****, yes it killed Musando,
A bribe can ****, yes it killed Juma,
A bribe can ****, yes it killed Samantha Pendo,
A bribe can **** yes it killed Stephanie on the balcony,
The bribe kills brutally when taken in line of duty,
A job promotion to job security fight for Uthamaki,
It kills brutally when received in line of avarice;
More land, houses in Karen, swollen bank dove-cots,
Free lunch and air-ticket windows of the bribe,
That can ******* to death when siring Uthamaki,

A bribe kills reason, mires power of truth,
A bribe fetters love for truth but bigotry extolled,
It can sent you to Paris sprinting with the keys
To the server room stuffed in your pocket,
A bribe warps the mind of the giver and the taker,
It makes democracy look the platter on which
Was John’s head, I mean the Baptist,

Uthamaki nourishes itself on the power of crime,
Looting, corruption, ***** riches, prostitution, lawless
hawking, Cartels, land-stealing, insider contracting,
faked academic testimonies, employment by tribe,
gangstering like Mungikification of the youths, insider
tendering, and now computer-generated uthamaki
all but nothing less than power of the bribe,

legerity is full in the hands of Uthamaki,
to condemn the sit that loves the truth,
fairness and justice is the harmful light to the bat’s eye
of Uthamaki, Uthamaki and the truth are oil and water,
uthamaki and the truth are as a Muslim and pork
uthamaki and the truth are an Israeli and an Arab,
they are an anti-thesis, Kenya a battle-field. Uthamaki
the thesis of imperial selfishness, democratic truth
the poor child of Kenya on the guillotine made of bribe,

Uthamaki has the name an epiphany all over,
Hospitals, schools, roads, avenues, maternity homes
Colleges, toilets, airports, prisons, barracks beyond zero,
And so forth, they all bare the name Uthamaki,
Uthamaki where are your age-mates and prison mates
Imprisoned for parting in struggle for freedom, Uthamaki,
You have stolen Kenya’s history and slaughtered the owners
At the slaughter-stone of bribe, using the tribe as your Knife,

Places where I go to conjure still mystifies me because when
engulfed in smoke and whirling mist, time slows and stops then moves again.

Some small strand of self slithers out and looks about then returns with small inspiration
Some morsel or crumb.

An otherly finger pokes in.
It plants a seed then stealthily recedes

The road lurches slowly then smoothly , tilting this  way then that way.
Questing, cohesion. A bolus of inspiration.
With sticky tendrils gently unfurled

This thing makes made odd.
My wife looks at me as if,as if, as if.
Always been a bit odd.

Oblique. after all.
Weird. Round peg in a square hole.
**** it.




.

Think piece. Jot, quick clog. Up the drain, sink ship in slime. Thyme and rhyme. Soaked up in the roots of the crock, the juices on which we dine. Sipping sustenance, sour; sweet. Fueling erosion. At the boarder of the mouth protective boulders crash down. Uneven ridges grinding, pounding. Whale ******* sea of spit. Belly-up. Maniacal pupils wide, about the circumference of crockery laid out and on and on ahead of ye. Into the distance it never ends. Cut cook chew cut cook chew cut cook chew look at you. Being stopped and squeezed and pushed. Always controlled, each little segment. You little bolus travelling. Sphincter sphere choked of air. Melting in the eyes of identity.

Blued, nickel reflecting light,
Shining on the Reaper.
Frosted steel
Open-mouthed,
Longing to swallow
A half-dozen biscuits

1 part Copper,
1 part brass,
2 parts lead,
1 part saltpeter,
1 part charcoal,
1 part sulfur,

The recipe for the dough.

Once masticated
in jaws of tungsten
It spits the metal bolus,
And gives new name to grim.

Vernarth soothes his lying on the bunks of Sheesham's fire. Beam and Incense with ultra olfactory and sensory powers, delineated the elemental and phenomenal nuclei, housing and adapting hyper-connectivity, with Hindu probity, the akasha executed the essential foundation in all things of material worldview; the first tangible and concrete material element was created by the god Brahma (air, fire, water, earth are the others). It was one of the classical elements of Hinduism, pañcha-majá-bhuta or "five great elements"; its main characteristic is the sabda (sound). In Sanskrit this word means "space." It is the physical and eternal substance Akasha, of the ether that flows through the Akasha-Nautas and through Vernarth in each parapsychological regression. Vernarth takes hold of a staff called "Staff of Sheesham" he acquired it once anxious to deliver him to his beloved Tuscany in the Cathedral Santa Maria dei Fiori, in one of his Regressive Lives. They waited for him astonished by the Tyrannized impulsiveness of the nobles in Florence, from which once again he was delayed from the barley and barley fields. of the foolish gods next to Porcellino. He waited long hours for his beloved Maddalena to leave the ceremonial eucharistic ceremony, while he carried his staff in his right hand and in his left a rectangular box that could be grasped for his hand, he carried essences of a potpourri of lavender and vellorita, a ring with an amethyst stone covered by a concave gold bolus, in the supra-circular contour it wore medieval Etrurian silver ornaments from the Feast of the barley pass. Before this acquiescent Samian Sibyl, he continued to carry the clairvoyance where the prophet Isaiah had unleashed the conflagration of the heart that resists death and that agonizes several times in the ...? From today, from Kafersesuh in Ein Karem, the overnight seal is opened in the cradle where Mary perches with her son, already being part of the Gethsemane and Vernarth lithosphere in the heart of Maddalena.

Phylogeny in Gethsemane: **** erectus crossed multiple pieces of evidence of pro-evolutionary-adaptive beings, Neanderthal / HomoSapiens. Children of Israel wrote parables, epistles, verses, stories, and books ..., their vocal and phonetic tract spoke of storms and environmental factors between heaven and earth, of the "Great noise outside of us, but little silence in us." The elementary thing is the larynx that only pronounces the image that denounces minimal evocative concepts of sound in different placements of the melisma in mega sound. Speaking to us how language varies according to history, and the civic-climatic environment instructing us to its threshold and descent, by detaching itself by the air effusions of language in regular tracheo-laryngeal levels. Authoritatively charging intervals of vocalization, and relationship of connection with agriculture and all its dimension descending through its internal walls, but rising through overexcite parietals outside itself.

From the little air that remains to the world, to continue to digest temporarily, it assumes itself by letting its extra-air flow, which is possessed by mechanically inert particles, and not in sanctified prophecies with miraculous inference and Inherence that innovates factotum, in the super existence of the that still do not perish by the hand of a monarchical mandate. Thus, the world swallows air in entire asphyxiating and contaminated halves, while others redistribute it for those who need to sit at the table to collect the Bread and share it with others in half. "Here the echo of the Christic body resounds." That in Aramaic, it will syndicate much more than a language in its blood, grapheme, and stylistic phonemes, in vibratory shock beyond its deep stretch, reverberating with the grace of its divine enunciation ”. Joshua, swallows spikes and olive leaves simultaneously arranging us in his arms, like children of olive trees-infants, we risk a sheep in his arms giving us milk-hydro lactation from the sustenance of a creative verb. "A strict fact of preserving the Aramaic and not losing it by turning the turns of the leaves in history". Aramaic must be incorporated for the times when Joshua grazes us after more than two thousand years yet. The one who is walking from one side to another to tell us that he is still here, only suggestive comforts your walk by plagiarizing with your larynx the sound of his expression. The sheep is a mammal ..., more mammal than man, because its statement formulates bleats always reflected in the bases of its skull, for the rest of its young as biblical language, under all the rainbows of the Cherubs bellowing, together with children surrounding them in identical intention! **** habilis – **** Sanctus, in a process that has an orthodox base and peripheral anatomical capacity, a Pythagorean linguistic shortcut of the winding up and sternum by confusing them with each other, not altering their structural or functional complexity. From the potential of the Lepidoptera and winged insects, the phenotype will arise that will relate and relativize the Aramaic mechanics or the Aramaic method, so as not to misplace the divine language, as well as the laryngeal torque of those who have blood and Aramaic body is sublime since its mechanized mystique it devours the smallest words with the maximums in a whole range of cacophonies and prototyped field: "Come to my field, here the spikes and insects will speak more than the mechanical potential of your Voice."

The wind tunnel was filled with Lepidoptera that flew ascending in a helical way, everything was sensitized with the imminent advent of the magnanimous arrow of Zefian that had been crossing the perihelion from the high Áullos Kósmos, dialectically with abundant credibility inside the geological tunnel of the Profitis Ilias, in turgid enlist of theological doctoral lactation. Timorous and lengthy righteous was ajar in those who were still fatigued, half-opening the ****** of the days that began with the identification of the Sheesham staff, naming themselves regent of the tribulations that drain through their length of displacement, towards static basality, and focusing idiosyncrasies and concerns of the Prophet Elijah who received them at level 103 with passages from Corinthians “That the saints are going to help in the administration of the millennial saints. His capacity will not have the limits of his previous earthly life”

Why do I still feel drunk
Why is it that the trashcan and I have become best friends
Why am I still so dizzy
I didn't go past my limit
Last night has many holes in the story
Did I really do that or is it a placed memory
How did I come to having my shoes off
What would have happened if I didn't have my friend
How did I make it home in the morning
A twenty minute drive took sixty
Couldn't hardly move when I made it to my bed
Except to lean over my new friend trashcan
Call a bud come help quick
Line started, bolus given
Stay until I crash
Hot/cold, shivers and hallucinations
Thank God for my night friend
I could have been a statistic
Roofie it may have been

my body misses you more than i do

no, no,
hold up,
before you accuse me
of being a "*** addict"
or only "wanting you for your body"
hear me out

when i say my body misses you more than i do
i mean
when we
started being more like a you and a me
i didn't like it
but neither did my body

TMI but
my stomach hasn't been so well
going to the bathroom after every meal
and nausea kinda follows me around
it's hard to lift my feet off the ground
i feel heavy
like i don't know to explain
what that means
but basically
my knees are buckling
and there is a bolus of food
stuck in my windpipe
it's getting kinda hard to fight

last night i started craving
fried food and sugar
and okay- maybe that's just ***
but like
my period is a good ten days away
that's not to say
that it shouldn't be this way
but
it shouldn't be this way

i got onion rings
but then threw them all up
because i could smell the oil
there is downright turmoil
in this body of mine
its definitely not fine

i wonder if i have bulimia
but that seems too simple an explanation
there's more to this situation
yesterday we talked
and i felt like i could eat
a three course meal and keep it
but now,
****,
a bite and i run to the bathroom
is it food poisoning?
i doubt it
because if you were here right now
i would be fine

all that aside
my heart is crumbling
my chest is collapsing
i can feel my ribs
break and buckle
because they have no use
left anyway
with all that heart break
and ****

so
i miss you
i do
but my body does too

The earth moves
according to its natural principles -
I love you according to mine.

Youth has left us so quickly -
the sun was once
a sweet saffron bolus
we swallowed so eagerly
fat day after day.

Now it's a quiet yellow *****,
that chokes on its own easting and
goes down like a horse pill in the west.

Instead, we are with moon -
I pull you close sometimes in tide,
then you're away waning, waning -
doldrums, tantrums.

If only I could swing low over you,
in your green rain town,
& not be pushed away.

It's no longer easy
to share the days with you.
I fill with ulcers
that bleed all into me,
the body the echo of the mind.

But I love you on natural principles -
you have touched my life all over.
Where I go, I bring you;
you are still the voyage home,
even when your replies come
so terse and lacking invitation.

Chapter VII
Sheesham's Staff  

Vernarth lies reclining on Sheesham's bunk beds of fire. Wood and Incense with ultra sensory olfactory powers, to design elemental and supernatural hearts, to house and be adaptable to hyper connectivity. In the Hindu religion, the akasha is the foundation and essence of all things in the material world; the first palpable and concrete material element created by the god Brahmá (air, fire, water, earth are the others). It is one of the classic elements of Hinduism, pañcha-majá-bhuta or ‘five great elements’; its main feature is sabda (sound). In Sanskrit this word means "space". In other Indian languages this word is conceptualized as "heaven".
It is the physical and eternal substance Akasha, of the ether that flows through the Akasha-Nautas, of each parapsychological regression. Vernarth takes a staff called "Sheesham's Cane", which he acquired while eager to deliver it to his beloved Tuscany in the Cathedral of Santa Maria dei Fiori, in one of his Regressive Lives.

They awaited him, stunned by the tyrannized force of the nobles in Florence, from which he was once again delayed by the barley and fatuous gods, close to Porcellino. He waited long hours for his beloved Madalena to come out of the Eucharistic ceremony. While he carried his staff in his right hand and a rectangular box for his hand on the left, inside he carried essences of potpourri of lavender and vellorita, a ring with amethyst stone covered by a concave gold bolus. In the supra-circular contour he wore medieval silver Etrurian ornaments from the Feast of Past Barley.

Vernarth is intubated with his therapist of the Veda typology, by the Samiama preferred to his meditation, concentration and Samadhi to merge with the universe and travel his Life until the end of Gaugamela (his most vigorous Regressive Life), while he was on his virtual journey Akashico walk the gods, disrupting his senses beyond all. Etrestles took a zither sounding the merits of the ear by prolonging his hearing of white cloaks and stereo silence. It leads them to the desired state of mind, such as the set of affects and emotions.

The fear of death is a somewhat natural concoction in the human being, although in too deep cases it constitutes a phobia (thanatophobia) that requires non-addictive treatment. But even when that phobia does not exist, but regression under hypnosis is sometimes traveling to the near and distant point of the Sun on its elliptical, almost getting lost in our galaxy, like the earth in its aphelion.
So in this way our great hero continues to travel in eternity, he never dies! For his life is a multi-dimensional regressive, to eternally navigate and ride through the scrolls of history with Alexander Magnus. Both sitting in Lotus on the Gordian Knot.


Past life experiences can be attributed to genetic inheritance, Akashic records, universal consciousness, telepathy, fantasies, or memories of readings or movies. As his mother Luccica brought, conceiving your son, very young of only 22 years, supposedly dying in a vascular accident, a fact that breaks the chain of genetic descent and allows us to suppose that there would be extra-cerebral memory. But it is reborn in Florence, Macedonia and Sudpichi and Gaugamela.

Names, places and dates can help to discern if it is a fantasy or a real experience. To accept it as such, it is recommended to check at least six matching data, such as names, dates, country, language, customs, weather, clothing, etc ... Many people ignored the dates or the name of the place where they lived. This makes it very difficult to verify such data, except in very few cases, so the lack of historical data does not necessarily constitute proof that they are frauds or fantasies of the hypnotized person. But this unforgettable feat of 331 b.C, is a date where Bacchus swallowed the history of the Universe at once. There is nothing left here, not to remember and much less to re-fiddle the citations of the Gods exhuming the brief metaphysical times that scent their intuitions.

Names: Vernarth Prince of Sudpichi, of the Horcondising Empire, of the Talamite Celestial Hymn.
Date: in the year of one of October 331 B.C.
Coordinates: 36 ° 21′36 ″ N, 43 ° 15′0 ″ E In decimal 36.36 °, 43.25 °
Country: Chile - Ancient Persia - Babylon
Language: Mapudungun, Hellenic and Persian.
Customs: Military consequence, phalanx, cavalry, archers and siege weapons such as Sarisa among others.
Climate: Autumn, dry and temperate climate. Little to hide.
Clothing: Exomis and war costumes. Agema elite guards, shields, Phrygian line helmets and multiple infantry shells.

Alexander Commanders:
Vernarth: First Commander of Heavy, Light and Thessalonian Infantry. Others, Hephaestion, Crater, Parmenio, Ptolemy, Perdiccas, Antígono, Clito, Nearchus, Seleuco, Ariston, Simias, Ceno, Ariston, Glaucias, Sopolis.

Thus in the post-equinox period of 331 B.C. Vernarth, he proclaimed himself a faithful Macedonian soldier, in the barbarian fields in Tel Gomel. And its circular deployment is destined to its epic rooted in this feat of being a unique part and valued by his therapist Walekira, attending to all the symptoms of this displacement due to a renowned parapsychological regression, which he never thought he would reach his origins as a Macedonian militia.

Wlakiria playing a flute from the elder ensemble, he readied himself for the ****** lines to keep him tied to his choir choir of the Bumodos. He would begin with the last sessions to supply them with the liquids through his veins, to take him to the advanced snatched bastions, where he lay upright, but with his head on the backwash of his headaches and touch-ups of approach to the lagoon of the Five Golden Swans that they agreed to his graft as the whipping commander of the Achaemenids.

Ellipses Gaugamela / Vernarth approaches:

Darius confused with the strength of the forces that came from Vernarth, resorted in the same way as in Issos, he has no other choice but to flee, causing the disbandment of his own by the lacerating wounds caused by the branches of Sauco, which were the branches of his arms numb, but guillotining. Every time a cavalryman turned to see who was following him, a sword appeared cutting their heads. . The Macedonian victory at Gaugamela is final. Alejandro is at the peak of his power looking from the sky. Now he has the clear path to advance toward the very heart of his enemy, the weakened Persian Empire.

After Gaugamela, Babylon was easily subdued. In Persia the cities of Susa, Persepolis, where Alexander burned down the Royal Palace and Pasargada succumbed one after another. In the spring of 330 B.C., Alexander resumed his march after Darius to Media. Upon reaching Ecbatana, Darius had slipped away again, taking refuge in Bactriana. Vernarth was surprised by the great general with a monumental average Sarisa spear, piercing a hundred soldiers with various spears, which one by one gently added to his hands stuffing them beyond his hands.

Alejandro Magnus said to him: beyond your strength there will be a day of knowing how to be a politician or a general to dominate the fear of the brave who shout with fear and not the cowards who shout with Courage!

Etrestles says: Although in the time I have lived in Messolonghi, I managed to be close to Scipio, as an official of the Roman State, I must compare him to your Son of Zeus, who undoubtedly at different times with a century of difference from General Scipio caudillo turned almost into a Great one, like Alexander…. I have to allow myself to simulate you in the parallel time that passes.

Replicates Vernarth: Yes Brother of good luck! The territories will be massacred. And there is no time or brave dimension to protect them. Scipio, undoubtedly comes from Messolonghi (Koumeterium Messolonghi / blessed Holy field of all heroes of all dimensions of time on earth and No), to warn us about the excesses that spray tiredness to those who are not to sleep, hunger and thirst to those who do not consume. But bravery to those who rise from the field in by the wheatfield shepherds irrigated by young sorceresses to raise Hellenic morale, from Medea perhaps to break the verb poetic with the Staff of Sheesham, to shake the earth and awaken those who need other sorceresses to awaken their consciousness and senses.

Alejandro Magnus, Etrestles and Vernarth; the three are each taken from the wood, which is the verse that supports them embedded. The infinity is painted lapis lazuli, the three look at each other and expand the chandeliers that hold them under the sky with Orion room light, whose golden ratio, as a result of the three numbers joined, the equation will tend to reflect the union of three kingdoms of divine reign.

"This communion is merged for itself for everything that is not concrete in a vague world"

To be continued… / under edition

My Windows look out on the Hastas.
mMy plastic flamingos travelled
     back here.
     Here from Florida

My bolus of early spring
     flowers offer pollin
but no bees arrive.  The
Blossoms reach out to
     the sky.  

It is to no avail.
My hands
shake in anticipation.

The cup of leaves with bite
     holes sift the want
     from my poetry.

I am an adventure.
     Tomorrow I will write
about you. How youth
escaped me and how
the open dreams danced

a little jig, a show of knee

And

The

Last time

ever
    
     you

        called

My

     name.


    
Caroline Shank
6.16.2024

IS THAT IT?

Time runs out
warps into itself
strata after strata

diminishing into
a dot before me
that I vanish into

Future-Past-the Now
all one
and the same

so this is what
Death is
I'm not impressed

the silence solidifies
Memory contrives
to put the world back

together like
a cut-out
Dada collage

a postcard blue sky
hastily assembled
against some remembered

building famous for something
or other and
a photo of you

ripped out of
an I don't know
stuck in place

glue seeping
around edges
like a white blood

Life is
an Hannah Höch
photomontage

Time congeals
like a fried egg with
a ciggie stuck in its yoke

I laugh at memory's
vain attempts
"Don't bother!" I tell it

in a voice like
the white space
between written words

the world swirls anti-
clockwise down
the plug hole of reality

If this is Death
as I say I'm not
impressed

*

Jan had fallen and hurt her head at Valletta...a great big blue ****** bruise. I was very worried about her and she awoke in the early hours of the morning. I got up to make her tea. I had a very sore throat....could hardly swallow my own saliva. I was waiting for the kettle to boil and idly bite into a slice of bread with delicious Maltese marmalade. I had just made the tea when I found I was unable to swallow the last bite...it got stuck in my throat and I was busy losing consciousness. Time was running away from me and everything was going black. Jan said I just collapsed and crashed to the floor...all I knew was that the world had gone away and everything was dark. Our Maltese friend said that the famous arch in Gozo that collapsed had collapsed from the bottom...."...like a too large lady on too high high heels." I was obviously doing my charades impression of the Gozo arch meeting its end. I too was busy meeting my end....but just before the world was cut from under my feet I dashed a slurp of tea into me which must have in turn helped to make the bolus of bread go down just in time. When consciousness lapped back into my skull I was only aware of water in my mouth and coming out of my nose....I thought I was drowning in the dark and had no notion how I had fallen into such a notion of an ocean. Jan was beside her self and then beside me as I made it back just in time to crawl back into life and the being of me...