He rose in darkness, as always, whatever the position of the sun. His first movements disturbed the nest of cozy sleeping bodies intertwined around the embers. The nest mended itself. By sense rather than sight he made his way up the rocky corridor until a lighter shadow painted the grey-black wall. He stopped there, fearful of an explosion of light. The rock was comfortable, the earthen floor nurturing. His spirit resonated with the hardness, in harmony at higher pitch. The song went on for who knows how long. Eventually, he braved the unfamiliar and embarked into the cacophony of sound a...
More..Neal Worthington
Member since: April 2007
Articles Written: 2