Much Loved. Or Coffee & ?

Herman. He had a saved image of a page from The Little Prince. By Saint-Exupery. He had a copy of this book when he was young, like 10, but didn't understand it. Well, it had nothing for reference, since the book is about life, and he only knew young experiments and young insanity. The good.

What it meant now was... It was still abstract, but it made sense. He had to give it to something else. A character. Personally, Herman didn't like to drive cars. It just wasn't his thing. He wondered if he could fly a plane. There is less stuff to hit. He had no intentions of flying a plane, but did wonder if he were capable of it. You know, in a pinch. Just in case.

Gravity increases with time. He wasn't light, but still mistook that his socks had Icarus wings. Sometimes he understood the tales of people on drugs "convinced they could fly." Like if he believed it enough, levitation and other escapades were entirely possible. He flexed reality constantly, so where were these limitations, these consistencies born? No god was he, he couldn't even create a mite. But he did play with the backdrop for whatever was playing out.

The first thing he thought of when he woke up at 5Am was when trees are hollow but still standing in the forest. He had a bird's eye view in his head of a forest of hollow trees, without tops, just empty vases made from wood, dark and empty vases. They had water in them. This wasn't a dream, these were his first thoughts. Of a dark, dead forest. And it was beautiful.