Little flames… sitting below the big flame, looking up. Blushing. Delight and wholeness in the sun searing through the moist veils of atmosphere, of strange tingling magnetic belts girding an iron core, none of those things known to most people throughout most of time, but felt somehow, in an atomic, there sort of way.
All present here, all together. Sitting, one is tempted to superlative and hyperbole.
Laura C. Mace 