Her body is taken by the water masses. Melting into liquid matter and vanishing wave by wave. Into the rivers that somewhere unite into the ocean. We were waiting.
The timing was perfect.

The soft clover sheets carried her body softly. The orange skin is embedded in the vibrant green. Naked; none of the thin fabrics that cover us all. Too dangerous would it be for an existing being to expose the body to the radiations and the pollutions of the atmosphere; too sterile our skins. But for her body, lying there on the clover, sterility anyway has come to an end.

Once someone decides to leave Earth we are desterilized. We are washed with a certain liquid that allows the body to more easily become one with the energy of the water. To stop breathing means to transform into another source of Energy. Instead of turning oxygen into CO2, now the entirety uses its forces elsewhere. No one explained to me how ‘death’ exactly is executed.

Death seemed to be the opposite of existence. Where life would come to an end. I was told, that people coming from ancestorial times, like my grandma, know existence as life. And that it had a natural ending. One would be born, one would grow, be strong for a while before one would age, and after a long process of shrinking and weakening, one would experience death. Like the morning glory that climbs the bamboo construction of my private area. It would start so small, just a light tiny sprout.
So fragile the first miniature leaves proudly present their squeaky green color to the sun. And within days it would grow. I could watch entwine after entwine as it developed. Into a stronger stem which’ color transforms into a darker, more experienced green that stands out from the bright bamboo. Once it reaches that state, it develops flowers. Overnight, Azur blue petals open up. As if holding entire oceans in their embrace, the delicate blossoms reflect the sky. This holds its magic for a while, before the blue flowers disappear, again, overnight. The strong dark green turns brownish, yellowish. It becomes wrinkled and withered. The plant now shrinks. Entwine after entwine, until it fades completely. Similarly would have been the fate of my grandmother if she had been born only a few years earlier. But fortunately, she was not. She saw it all. And she saw an advantage and freedom in the choice to exist. She decided to leave behind what she knew as life and death. Not all of them did so. Now, there are only a few people that have experienced everything; who know, how existence came into being. Evolution painted the images I exist in. Natural mutations aimed to wipe out humanity and its impact on Earth. But the intrinsic will of species to fight for survival, pushed human creativity to find a way to trick Earth. By integrating itself into Earth’s cosmic nature, humanity saved itself from extinction. Whatever people did materialistically on earth to make it a livable environment, was in vain. Nature does not care whether the people did good to it or whether they did bad to it. Any moment again the earth is at point zero; choosing how to act, were to explode, where to open. Every moment again Earth is at a point to initiate positivity or negativity. No matter what people were doing or planning to do. Earth does not know the concept of time that my ancestors lived by. We know today that a linear path from the past to the future is not conducive to a greater existence. So, Earth makes the choice every second anew to give energy, to start a spiral of positivity. Or to withdraw energy, to implode, and to turn a spiral into negativity. Similarly, humans make the choice now. The acceptance of time being non-linear allows us to be at point zero every moment. To decide whether we want to exist, being a spiral of positivity or not to exist, leaving behind a negative space where our physicality has been existing.

In my surrounding, there seemed to be a general aversion to leaving existence. Existing seems beneficial for me as a person. Grandma talked about ‘death’ sometimes. Consciously existing meant having the force to spend Energy according to our will. Once we decide to leave, our bodies disperse into wholesomeness, our bodies would become one with the water and the theme would lose its directing power.

Will it remember, I asked her. Will it remember the feeling of hovering above Earth watching the flow of the water underneath; will it remember the waterdrops bouncing off the suit when the heavy rains started, the chirping of the bugs orbiting the tiny lightbulbs behind the leaves, the alluring nectar nestled in the delicate petals of the water roses. She would smile at me. But she would never answer. And she never will. She will stay silent from now on. Her beautiful eyes will stay closed and her soft voice will never reach my ears again. She will be one with the water soon. The unconscious entirety will be blessed with her energy and she willingly permitted usage.

It is a slower process than I imagined. My X is active for minutes. The water, that starts covering her body wave by wave, does not reach my suit. My feet are hovering centimeters above the shiny water surface. I will never get used to the picture of the waves underneath my feet; when the flooding is at its peak and right before vanishing as fast as it came. Magical it is, how the translucid fluidity covers up the greenery, or the marble stones, or the black frozen lava of earth’s surface. Even if the flooding is only a few centimeters high, the whole world as I know it disappears for some time. And then, I can watch the water withdraw. Like a jellyfish slowly contracting towards its center, the riverbed reabsorbs everything it has just spat out. Within minutes, the thick layer becomes thinner. And thinner. And I begin to see the colors from where I float. Near the mountains, the black smooth stone vaults are the result of red and fiery lava flows that once poured over the earthy soil of the mountains. Near the riverbeds, green soft clover fields and mossy landscapes invite you to lie in the sun and make yourself comfortable in the dry hours. Some marble remains give this place an ancient look, like fleshless bones they stick out from the greenery and often from the not-so-high-reaching flooding. I could stand there, watching, and my X would actually not activate, sensing the safety of the altitude. These heavy large stone slabs withstand the strongest quakes. It is rare for a landslide to break through one of them. But when it does, the earth appears like a hungry beast that tears open its wide, toothless mouth and then silently, with ease, pulls in the huge white: the soft, patterned pieces of stone. And it glides, slips gently into the damp earth. Wistfully it surrenders to the dark depths. When the water disappears completely and the earth stops shaking, only the wondrous remains of the monumental stone masses emerge. Hatched from the egg: The transformed stones are exposed.

Now it is not the stones that are drawn into the depths of the earth. It is grandmother's body that quietly, longingly, magnetizes inward. She does not wear her X. Her bare neck lies exposed in the sun, so orange, so fragile. When I was little, she took X from me sometimes. She gently took the heavy copper away from me and said I had to give it some rest. I remember the fear I felt when the earth began to move. Nausea that began to take over every cell in me. I watched as my legs shook, as I braced myself on the trembling ground. Grandmother stood beside me, seemingly rooted to the uneven floor, as if she didn't mind. I know it is an illusion. It always has been. She willingly surrendered to the control of the earth. Smiling, she would clean up all the pink splashes that made up our midday meals and that we could not hold in our trembling bodies. How surprised we were when we saw the slimy mountain on the bamboo mats.
How her body now lies confidently and contentedly on the clover field, as if nothing could make her lose control. And after the flood, there will be no remnants of their existence on earth. I feel my eyes getting moist. It was a sad smile that played around her lips when she gave us X back. Relieved and exhausted, we aimed for it as if it had already been a part of our body. But it was not yet. Now X is a part of my body. It only works with my DNA because it is made of her. But at that time, she was able to convince us of the need to give X time to rest. She would be silent for the rest of the day. No stories, no tickle games in the hammock once the sun would set. She wanted to be alone in these moments. She would leave her X on the shelf once we were reunited with ours. She was walking on the soil and the bamboo mats with her bare feet. Grandmother always refused to wear the suit. Her skin was dark from the UV rays and the sand and dirt she exposed her body to. Wrinkles all over her body and hair, long and full of knots from the frequent sandstorms. Only when she sensed that a deluge might begin did she reluctantly put X back on.

I run my fingers carefully over my X. The copper lies suptle around my neck. Neither X nor I can sustain for long without one another. X would just disperse. Its fragile composition of the malleable metal structure that is held together through the electricity of my DNA-energy, would lose its scaffold once the DNA is dead. Before, people disappeared because of the landslides, drowned in the waters that overtook them, when without the X there is no way to escape the forces of nature. The big wave changed the general recognition of its importance. More than half of the people disappeared due to that catastrophe. No one was safe if they were without X. Then engineers found a way to incorporate our DNA into the magnetic workings of our solar system. So the DNA energy becomes the electrical force that holds the metal structure together. And this copper structure can control the gravitational forces of the earth, sun, and moon. We simply take a certain composition of vitamin D and K2 every day to enhance this three-dimensional connection. One is directly connected to the earth and indirectly connected to the sun and moon. When the earth shakes every few hours or a flood hits, my X' deactivates its solar gravity shield by a few hp, so the earth's gravity is weaker on me. I am lifted off the surface of the earth for some time. During the day, the sun's gravity exceeds the earth's gravity, while at night, the moon's gravity is stronger. But somehow, when the earth is facing the moon, its forces seem to have a rather calming effect on the earth. It is not often that tremors or deluges begin in the dark. I love this feeling of hovering above the shaking bamboos or the glittering water waves. Especially, in the night when only the dim light of the moon illuminates the dark matter. I see the ceiling waving from left to right, the windows wabble in this irregular rhythm of quakes. And me, silently, smooth, like in a dazzling dream, watching. The moon cradling me in its arms, cozy and safe. Magically how the energy is beaming around and through me.

For quite some time, she lays there on that clover field. Shining in the sunlight. The reflection dazzles my eyes as the sun's rays refract from the film of water that covers the whole scene. She looks beautiful. The water then covers her up completely. I wonder how it must feel. It looks soft. Her Hair, dancing with the waves, so soft and malleable. Moving gently, swaying from one side to the other. Or is it just the waves on the surface that distort the vision? How would it be to be that hair? To be embraced by that transparent matter? It looks so light. And it looks so heavy. It reminds me of a secret thing grandmother had hidden in her private area. She would show it to me sometimes. When the sunlight was gone for hours and the tiny bulbs illuminate the air in a very different atmosphere than during the bright sunny day. Like a veil lied upon the earth. So disharmonious in between all the shades of dark and yet so essential to our existence. Pitch dark would it be without these bulbs. For the eyes of animals and the leaves of the plants, the night would still be night. Their eyes adapt to the darkness and the frequency of the tiny bulbs reaches only the poorly equipped human eyes. There I was, leaning in the woven liana hammock, scrolling on the Pad for things to occupy my mind. I could hear the rustling of the petals breaking open; the flowers slowly exposing their toxic juices to attract their victims. I could hear the birds chirping far above between the branches; the blind Moth’ buzzing through the rare spheres of natural light. Above the river, underneath a fluorescent blossom. On those nights, when I forgot about the pad and immersed myself in the sounds of the woods and rivers around me, Grandmother would bring them out of hiding. She would sit next to me, close, taking my hands with her hands and then placing the things into them. She called it resin. There were five tiny transparent forms, each showing an insect inside. These insects inside were real, yet not touchable because of their embeddedness in the transparent hardness. They looked similar to insects I know but never have I seen one of them buzzing around the rivers. My favorite one was a big blue insect that had two almost identical wings to both sides of its tiny long-shaped body. The wings were super thin and looked like they were powdered with silver that shone with every bit of light it could catch. Menelaus blue morpho, the grandmother said. I know nothing as beautiful as this creature frozen in the resin.
She looks like that the blue morpho. An orange morpho. The flooding crossed its peak. The water is about to leave. Slowly, searching its ways towards the river bed. And its masses are taking her with it. Lifting her and carrying her away. Into the wide masses of waters whose complexities I will never be able to grasp.

My feet drop onto the floor. The warmth of the X around my neck weakens. I feel the soft clover underneath my soles. I look down: my feet on the dried floor. I see my naked skin, slung by the transparent fabric of the suit. This fabric keeps me from feeling the lightest greens. This fabric keeps me from feeling the transparent wet matter of water. I kneel, run my hands over the clover. My hands are also covered with thin fabric. But on my hands, the fabric allows my sensuality. I can feel the soft, tiny plants. Still a little damp, glowing little hearts. I pluck a small bouquet. Slowly, I start walking. Towards the river, where she just vanished in. Juniper is standing next to the river bed. Her gaze follows the water flow. Calm again, the waves gently, harmoniously swaying from right to left. Silently I step next to her. I throw the clover bouquet into the river. It is quickly absorbed by the current. The clover stalks drift apart. Vanished from sight, they are traveling with where the water is going. “I always wondered where these waters go. Where it comes from when it's flooding the earth and where it’s going when it's withdrawing from it”. Juniper turns her head and looks me in the eyes. “I will go and see myself”. I see in her eyes that she means it. She turns her head again towards the river. My face follows her gaze. Silently we stand there. Watching the river flow. Taking all the stories that have not been told. “I will come with you”. She says nothing for quite a while. Then she nods her head. Thoughtfully. I feel her fingers next to mine, searching for entanglement. Our hands connect, pressing firmly as if making the deal round.