I feel. Shamanistic. I feel. I feel atavistic and pantheistic. I feel touched by what they could have, maybe did call the divine wind. Though only my fingers and eyes move here, a wind, no, a storm is blowing through me. I feel wracked, my soul exposed and blown to shreds. Around my head a cloud of words whirls, I can still taste the colours that no-one has ever named. The ocean took me, and now the words take me. The world feels one second slow, not synced to your perception. They call it seeing beyond the veil and they are wrong. It really means that I can see through the veil, but that you are on one side of the veil and I am on the far side, and over here everything is clear. I have mainlined the ocean and the night into my blood and my lungs and my eyes.