You feel as though you have a body again. Or did you always have a body? Have you been here before?

The jungle is peaceful. You are above. Above what? You are high up. Is this heaven? Have you ascended beyond the world you know?

A man sits so still you mistake him for a statue. His skin is mottled like stone. When he talks, his voice comes from his lungs rather than his mouth.

“Welcome. Take your rest, if you will.”

You wait. You feel the sense of responsibility and stress fade away. When you come to, moss has grown atop your skin. Birds roost in your lap.

“Welcome back,” the statue of a man breathes. “Make no mistake, I offer you peace, but I will reach the goal. Do not stand in my way. I will make my way to the end. It will be me who finds the end. I will be the one to conquer The Screaming Zahir.”

You look for an exit. You look for a concept or word or phrase to move somewhere else. A route to a new place. A path.

“There is none,” the man statue says with an amused smirk. The stone around the corners of his mouth cracks. “Take a leap. Guess. Move with faith. Find your own way. Think of a word and put it in its place up there. You don’t need paths. You need action. It’s what I will do.”