my collaboration with a 60 year old woman

Wind Flower, she was Daughter of the Wind, she had the rain as a parental sibling, the sister of Draughts' dream, parched in the mouth of Desert, Mother Rain's neglectful guilt, the result of entropy of The Gods, The Elements, the ultimate family within earthly godliness, a genus known to man, known to animal, upright, prostate, ethically towering, ethics as power; the ethics of destruction, the ethics of starvation, the ethics of death, chaos, tragedy; the righteous ways of strength. It is known that one should die favorably in the eyes of supremacy, which is why we pray to government with our eyes tightly closed. What seems to be imagination, that tropical island that nurtures you, coddles you, brings the warmth of comfort with it's imaginary beams of sun, shelters you from the harshness of the outside world, is a reality; the real world. The world that exists when you open your eyes, the perfect world to fear, the perfectly carved idol to worship, all of existence carved by celestial hands, the outer physical realm, is a hard reality; a world of stone, of pain, of birth, of dirt; the imagination's manifesto; book of laws. Edict and sediment play together as blind children in this world. And what could be more spiritual than a worm? A snake! Violence is sacred. Hunger, the motive in the crime, makes criminal activity righteous. We all must eat! The Daughter of the Wind must eat too! She has a blustery appetite, sometimes, for incredible violence.

Wind Flower, the Daughter of the Wind, had been watching his fathers powers since she had first opened her eyes as the tiniest little whirl, very new to this world. She had forgotten what was before, but as her spinning skills got easily better within time, she knew in her heart that she had always been a spiraling expert, also in previous universes. She loved her mother the Rain, and they would often play above the tropical islands together. Wind Flower would spread her warm whirly fingers through every free space, like humans sometimes like to dip their toes into sand, and Mother Rain would watch her daughter at a safe distance, and afterwards freshen up the islands from her daughter's warm movements by releasing her soothing droplets down. They would do that five, six, seven or ten times a day … Some would say: ”It rains all the time on this island!” Others were happy to feel Wind Flower's warm caresses, especially through their houses. What if there were a few showers, they kept the island green! All the plants loved Wind Flower playing with her mother. It was a balanced way to grow up; sun beams and water from the sky, and healthy movement sideways. The plants couldn't have had any physical exercise without Wind Flower touching them! The music that she played was heard only by some …

Wind Flower's father was mostly absent. He was living like a bear in his secret cave, but even absent, he was venerated. When he appeared, he had the intention of saying hello to his daughter and gently play with her. Often it remained as an intention. He got easily inebriated by his own fame and forgot about his family. The fear of the masses of tiny humans was food for his ego. He couldn't help abusing the frightful respect he was given. The sucked fear-energy made him swell and get darker and blacker until he would have bursted if he hadn't canalized his powers into spirals. This enormous giant bear then whirled his ”danse macabre” and devastated all under his path.

One day Wind Flower was dancing on the surface of the sea with a pod of dolphins near the island. They were breaching and spinning, who would make the greater number of twists and turns in the air. Wind Flower made some whirls in the blue-turquoise and strong waves. She had a secret wish: she would like to see the underwater world. All her attempts were in vain. The dolphins had some hidden powers to be able to live in two different worlds. The element water was their home, but they had to breathe air to live. And they could even go further: jump out of the dense element with their heavy weight and perform like acrobats! That was a miracle, she thought. How could she dive to see the depths with all the beautiful animals living under the sea?

Suddenly one of the dolphins asked her: ”Would that be your long-lost father approaching in the horizon?” Wind Flower could not see anything, but she had learned to trust the dolphins' sixth sense. They were the masters under and over the waves, and they certainly had heard something underneath.

Then a superpod emerged from the depths. Hundreds of dolphins were swimming in circles, jumping, diving, hopping. She turned to the dolphin who warned her of Father Flesh, and his soiling of the perfect horizon, and clapped while making clicking sounds. She emitted whistle breaths and clicked about madly. Fear was evident. "Look" said the dolphin, "My name is Sitting Foot. I am the chieftain of Tribe Anishinaabee. I've radioed for backup, and that's why you see Elehgumogik patrolling the waters with us. We were getting ready for Rapid Deployment Formation drills, then you arrive on the scene with Mister Flesh looming in the bachground. My understanding is that you had no awareness of his presence. With his felonious history in the sacred Ojibberchip sea waters of Puckered Mouth Bay, his tyrannical statements in blood lines, ossified in bone, and his passion for cessation, his infamous lust for Stop is known throughout the waters of the world, we have a commitment to finalize the end of Stop. Mdaaswi shaa niizhis the code, remember that"

Air then leaked from Wind Flower's blowhole. Wind Flower squeaked excitedly about termination. Flesh grew nigh with every moment. There was little time to waste. Wind clicked a few more times at Sitting Foot, who was busy brushing up tactics from the revered manuals of the deep. Nobody knew what to expect from Father Flesh. As the dolphins leaped about, formed squadrons, ran through Crisis Situation Drills, and sang warrior songs, the air began to thicken. The pasty air quickly slowed perpetuity down. The thick muddy soot got into everybody's eyes. The tribe, and it's affiliates soon retreated to the deep. Wind Flower was seized with fear--knowing that if she were ever to explore the depths of ocean, now would be the time. "how could Wind survive? Would her soggy petals dissolve in the water? What would become of her secret weapon--her attar? Would even her bartholin glands swell shut? Or would the sea just swell hard and rocky? Suddenly she noticed that Flesh was towering above her She quickly turned herself inside-out and submersed herself deeply!

It wasn't long before the underwater reaction began. Salty waters brewed her acids and alcohols together, gave new flavor to her glycols, ketones, and aldehydes. Waves of pyridine washed the water. Squalene and urea cleansed, and were cleansed. Ketones and aldehydes filled the chalices of underwater life. A silent toast was made in favor of the new Sea Queen, Wind Flower. The entirety of oceans were charmed by her lubricant. It became the oil for lamps, the lights for beacons. Her emissions were royalty. She was exalted into permanent ecstasy! If only she could swim! If only she could take water into her lungs. Her death became a sliver of past. In death she found a transcendental illume, a crown of light, that was actually always within her, but overlooked. She longed for life. Certainly ethereal existence was a marvel, but the sweetness of decadence will forever be memory. The natural beauty of all her mistakes were now but memories of clumsy perfections.

Sitting Foot swam circles around her essence, still protecting her from Flesh. As he dizzied himself, she realized the Promise Of Flesh was realized----she had been permanently subject to the throes of Stop. She thought about the code, she thought about her inability to truly communicate, how she communicated by osmosis. She lamented about how lonely the horizon may be without the shadowy figure that filled it, the substance that gave focal point to the vast sky-scape, the water's end, the sky's below, where water kisses air in the final scene, the ultimately unresolved ending, the continuity possibilities for reincarnation. She thought about how in corporeality, thoughts are bricks or balloons. She thought of roses, eggs, months, and disciples. All the other dolphins have made their decent. Sitting Foot still circled her as her new mind raced.

Sitting Foot then stopped and said...