Voices dance over me like ants at a harvest. I shake with the deep bellow of whale song, the answering trumpet of elephant, am tickled with the chirping of crickets the size of busses. A spider wraps me in her web, places me on her back. Her chalice’s grate “Ha-angg—on-n,” and she balloons up into the sky.
“Where are we going, Grandmother?”
Her chalice’s grate again. “Coun-n-c-cil-l—o-of-f—A-a-ll—Be-ei-ingg-s-s. Yy-you-ur-r—Ggrannd-d-ffa-a-ath-ther-r—i-s-s—wai-ai-ait-t-inn-g-g.”
We descend through clouds, through fog, through mist, through water, through waves, through oceans into the earth, through boiling rock and land on an island deep in the sky.
He lifts me in his arms. “Are you ready, Gio? Are you ready to meet your friends?”
The island grows and grows and more and more arrive. John and Running Water and Apara and Chan and Joe Swota and Erdös and Lan and Han and Timbe and Rose and Bee and Spider and Moose and Hummingbird and Hawk and I recognize them even when they don’t look like I’ve seen them before.
“Do you see me who I am, Gio? Do you see me who I am?” It’s a game to them, too!
My friends teach me to play their games and ask me to teach them mine.
Then a voice I’ve not heard before. A voice of fire, like a mountain. A throat clearing that sounds like trees falling in a forest. “Hello, Gio.”
A wall of sky offers me its hand. I hold stars and planets and galaxies in mine, not even knowing what they are.
“Who are you?”
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