[DROP] something radiates

MILO

now they're standing in the door
singin' "that's my shit, that's my shit"

He thinks he’s going the right way, shifting toward the rocks and stumbling. A trip brings him down, but in this dreamscape he feels no pain on his knees, no skin torn and bleeding from all of his stumbling and trips. But he hasn’t fallen into the ravine, and that’s proof enough he’s doing alright. He pauses, though, spending some time to think of whether or not to continue straight or to go left again toward the warm winds still felt along his body. Milo blinks a few times, steadies his feet, and strays left into the warmth of the winds, hoping that it might swallow him up in its embrace.

---

Milo goes left into the winds!

that's what everybody wants an' some more
singing "you may be the death of me"