Oh what magnificent heights! I am bathed by the sun, wings melted by the heat like Icarus. But I ignore reason for the sine waves lift me up higher and higher. Fluorescent Heights has cut me loose. Gravity means nothing. The oceans rise with me; I am swimming among the Great Barrier Reef in the stratosphere. I jump beside Felix Baumgartner but do not fall to earth. This is my new home, enveloped in heavenly clouds and the synthesizers of angels. I am rocked to silver lining sleep on a bed of Tidal Motions. The moon is my reading lamp, the sky my window. I never want to feel terra firma with my feet again. The beach and the mud and the stone and the grass are all up here anyway. This is better than The Rapture because anyone can come. No sin exists in weightlessness. And if it does, Fluorescent Heights will absolve it. This will make it right. I lay my head on the bosom of a star. I rest my feet on the edge of Olympus Mons.
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