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The space between is where the wind blows - like the space between leaves, causing weightlessness in the gap that is not a gap. There, where intuition informs, light arrives, in waves - washing through. We are one message for one another: breath is wind, silence is light - not glare, but lightness in the dark. Breaths carry time. Time is not real, not the way we imagine. Time is only opportunities in procession, a path to travel on. We are fairy-like, our footsteps barely touch the ground - grass that bends to wind. Wind, the voice of God, speaks to us now. Now - across beams electric, as we connect. Time and space. All in this moving, cool, caress of a game.