under him , around him . The clouds are carved into cathedrals , cutting edges of breezes whittling away and shaping and curving into art . He holds his arms like wings and feels the wind curling across his palm , weaving through his fingers . Below him there is nothing but emptiness and the clear , clean shine of what might be water far below , or perhaps only more sky . The wind sings in his ears and tears through his hair and flees flees flees to the ends of the Earth where it knows it must go but it does not know what is waiting . He is the only still thing in this vast sky , air whipping past and herding the clouds along in their never finished shapes . He leans forward , face to the ever-buffeting wind , and he looks like a bird posed for landing , all long lines and smooth skin and twisting hair that the breezes giggle at as they tangle . He leans forward and tilts , twists , dives , falls and he is streaking to the ground in freefall head first , his limbs all graceful and streamlined shapes , his spine the uncurling storm front and he plummets into what may be water as hard as stone , what may be sky and never ending and it shines , light cast off a smooth surface as his fingers curl like claws behind him and he grins , the wind in his teeth , in his eyes , in every pore and cell and filling him as he breathes until sheer speed rips it away . If he had the breath for it he would laugh . He does not slow . He does not stop . And he never hits the ground .
Ne plunges into space , rippling and shining about nem like a pebble breaking the surface of the water and rocketing into a world so foreign from all it has known on land . There is a stillness and absolute silence and the stars burn cold and ne crests the horizon of a dying planet , painted russet and glowing from its ancient , tired sun . Nir fingers swirl through space dust , trailing solar wind and specks of light like phosphorescence and galaxies are born beneath nir fingers , tumbling and drifting and growing so that when they reach the edge of everything that yet exists , then they will be as large as the one they were born in , beside the ancient planet and the bloating red sun . Ne steps like there is substance beneath nir feet , like there is more than just the void and ne walks on nothing and moves . A gliding footfall sends nem dancing over ice encrusted asteroids and ne dances between rocks , over stars , across the rings of planets and the crest of a solar flare and over the silver disks of many moons and ne laughs , laughs in delight and love and wonder and it is silent for there is no sound in space , only the endless , echoing quiet . But ne is laughing and ice crystals hang from nir lips , shining and spinning miniature stars and suns and particles that are nothing yet but could be everything , in the air ne exhales , in nir laughter , in nir delight . There is no air to draw in , but when ne exhales , ne breaths universes .
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