To hold infinity in the palm of your hands, and eternity in an hour, see the world in a grain of sand, and see heaven in a wild flower.
— William Blake
“I came to the puddle. I could not cross it. Identity failed me. We are nothing, I said, and fell. I became drawn in, tossed down, thrown sky-high. I was blown like a feather, I was wafted down tunnels.”