In the woods she sees significance everywhere. Now that she’s super-sensitive, her eyes extend on stalks, her hairs twitch like antennae, her skin bristles.  She feels the bones of her inner ear throbbing as they speak to each other, notes the swirling of her digestive juices. Underfoot she reads the path – its present mud and pebbles and branches, its past story. She sees that the clothes on bare branches are the old accoutrements of herself, abandoned and dangling, moving in the wind, nothing to do but decay and disappear as the new leaves come out. The rumble of wind and the rush of water are overbearing sounds of death.

Her old body is there but she has slipped out. She’s watching it being found and wondered at. She is somewhere else, just being. She transmits a message from the sparking connections in her new brain, and muscles of her face contract. She smiles to herself. How easy it was.