A deluge,

Life is about cramming your gullet full; Not my gullet, your gullet.

I remember that when I was a child, I could fly. Not the everyday up-up and away. Low-flight pass-overs inches above the ground. Human Hovercraft. The body tries to trick you later. Flight is impossible. Maybe it's weight. Children are light. But that doesn't explain it.

My best guess, it's a belief thing, a not knowing any better. A child can accept flight. Sure, they might say, I can fly. And who's to tell them they can't if they are doing it. Like the boy who could only turn invisible when no one was looking. Of course, that boy died when he was struck by a driver at the wheel texting "I'd love to see that show with you, is there a cover?"

As an adult, it's too hard to become fervent about flight. Even the evangelical, it seems, are filled with self-doubt. Useless, to fly 3 inches above the ground. But, I really could fly. The thing is, I know how to fly still. It just takes more concentration. So much concentration, for 1 inch of flight for 1 second, for me, meant that my first self-generated lift left me constipated for 3 weeks. And on the second try I got a nosebleed, which become chronic, and forced the doctors to cauterize my nasal cavity.