Slowly walking towards the edge I can already feel the depth. It's almost as if I could smell it, as if an updraft would be carrying up scents from the valley below. The wind is strong and I need to push against it to keep my balance. Not that keeping my balance would matter much now, but I'd rather jump and fall proudly than tumble off the edge like a goofy little pup. I feel somewhat solemn on this most final of occasions, taking the last steps towards the edge like a priest swinging the incense burner, my chest swaying back and forth with each step. When the depth slides into view, I can't help taking a deep breath. I linger for a second or two, but I am beyond doubt, grasp the edge with my toes, and let myself fall slowly forward, pushing away from the edge at the last moment. I am embracing gravity's gentle pull and hear the air rushing around my head, my hair succumbing to the aerodynamic drag. I exhale for what seems an eternity. I drift drift drifting drifting off you're drifting off again dear. You look thirsty. Are you thirsty? You're thirsty aren't you? Let me get you a drink. Ever since the accident you've been disappearing into these daydreams. I know it's hard, but life goes on. Your mind was the most beautiful thing about you anyway, you know. And there still is a chance that you get the feeling back in your limbs. Don't give up on life just yet. Here's your drink my dear.