There wasn't anyone at the edge, when we got back. They said "please don't be normal", and we said "time is traumatizing". The birds came down from the trees while the turtles climbed the branches, and we all entered blank-eyed reflection, concerning our poorly planned vacation. Every time the water left, the fire rained. One of the turtles reached for nothingness, and grabbed hold, never letting go. The sun came up, and we got dressed in normalcy, and returned to reality. To grow old. To grow old. To grow old.