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kulupu wi wawa unu

A girl awakens. To her, it feels like she is awakening from a long, long dream, finally gazing at reality. Everything is cold around her. Despite opening her eyes, she can see nothing.

She stands up. Her eyes adjust to the darkness, despite having bathed in it for all of her existence. Above her, in the sky, a mass looms, circular. She can feel the breath of a shuddering old man next to her. She looks down. The old man is somewhat familiar. She saw him in her dream.

He is naked, as she is. He is thin, and she can see his ribs. His whole body seems frail, and he is still sleeping, through the long dream only she will wake from. Next to him is another naked, sleeping body. And yet another, and another, and another. What she sees above is not a mass, but simply another angle. By looking closer, she sees the mass is made of sleeping, shuddering bodies.

And here she stands. She does not know her name. She never had one, for names are only given to those woken up, and no one is here to give her one. A slow and longing breeze starts to blow, taking her long hair in its threads. Everything feels cold, yet under her feet, at the center of the mass, she feels a warmth.

Through a staircase of bodies, she descends. Walking on the slumbering ones, she sets down the steps, and finally, after what feels like an eternity, she reaches the core. This is where she belongs.

She sits down, and the bodies close back in on her. Here, in the warmth, she can feel an old man expire. And she feels the warmth of the sun on a half of her.