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K and I are co-creating. I doodle on ArtRage, and he writes a little story for me. It makes us happy.
I swing my aching legs over the top of the final boulder and collapse, exhausted but relieved. My lungs are on fire, and my head is spinning from the prolonged shortage of oxygen. I am no professional mountaineer, and this trek has been way tougher than I had imagined it would be. But still I have reached the summit, and as I stagger up to look around me I am rewarded with the most spectacular panorama I have ever witnessed. A vast ocean of rolling white clouds stretches out for miles in every direction, blanketing the earth below, broken only by the scattered mountain peaks that float across its surface like jagged, lonely islands. Above me, smoky wisps of cirrus drift lazily by, making it feel as though the ground beneath me is silently moving. I almost have to sit down again..