A sense unlike the usual five we are aware of, call it the sixth call it the cosmic; whatever it is it coddles the imagination and charms the soul. Imagine a cascade in a forest with moss capped rocks and still mannered bull frogs. Now imagine a 747 airplane drifting into the clouds producing sound much like running water rushing along those rocks. Sitting on a rock and listening to the sound of nature Boris called the name of his Mother in quiet despair, asking her ghost why she was what she was and if she really did exist all along. The sun was brilliant the sky was blue, the wind was dry and his skin was bronzed.
Boris looked at his feet and liked what he saw. He saw them to be diamonds, precious minerals used for his blessed vantage. Boris liked to see his feet molded onto the moss, the way they felt and such. The water spilled over them and created a clean feeling crisp and sanctifying. He had an erection from the cool weather in the redwood tree scaped forest. Tall tr...