Falling (8.2): Together. That Kiss. Magnificent. Real.

A Single Thread of Light

4. The Reunion

The arrivals terminal at Melbourne Airport existed in a perpetual state of liminal possibility—a space where stories ended, began, and transformed with each set of sliding doors. Ruby moved through customs with mechanical efficiency, her body operating on automatic while her mind calculated variables she couldn't consciously articulate. The familiar caution tried to reassert itself with each step toward the exit, doubts and distance multiplying beneath her skin.

You're making a mistake, the familiar voice whispered. This isn't running toward, it's just another form of running away. There's nothing solid here, nothing permanent. There’s nothing, now house, no money, nothing.

She silenced the voice not through argument but through the physical certainty that had guided her across oceans. Her body knew things her mind couldn't comprehend—the precise feeling of connection that had drawn her back to Melbourne with the inevitability of gravity.

As she approached the final set of doors, Ruby felt a shift in the air, as if the space around her had suddenly realigned. Her skin hummed with recognition before her eyes could confirm what her body already knew: Lester was there, on the other side of the glass, standing perfectly still in the crowd of waiting people.

It wasn't possible. She hadn't told him she was coming. No one knew except Jonathan, and he wouldn't have— [but he did].

But possibility had become a poor measure of her reality, Ruby realized as the doors slid open. Lester stood exactly where he needed to be, as if the universe had calculated their coordinates with mathematical precision, ensuring their paths would intersect at this precise moment, in this precise place.

"The convergence point," the Librarian said, her form shimmering with increased definition as she guided Maya's attention to where Lester and Ruby's patterns were aligning with perfect synchronicity. "Watch how their entanglement resolves."

Above them in the Library's twilight, the separate geometries that had defined Lester and Ruby were merging with a harmony that created new theorems, new possibilities. The steady blue light of Lester's constants provided a foundation for Ruby's transformative variables, while her evolving patterns introduced new dimensions to his inerative and recursive functions.

"They're solving for each other," Maya observed, watching as these combined mathematics created ripples through surrounding patterns, touching Frankie's concentric squares, Johnny's spirals, and even sending pulses of light deep into the Hollow Archives.

"Yes," the Librarian agreed, "and more importantly, they're generating entirely new formulas together—possibilities that neither could calculate alone, and certainly not consciously."

She pointed to where the space between their converging patterns glowed with a quality Maya hadn't seen before—neither solid nor fluid, neither defined nor nebulous, but somehow both simultaneously. "This," the Librarian explained, "is the mathematics of reunion—not as simple as going back, not as linear as moving forward, but a more complex geometry altogether, like a spiral that revisits its origin point from a higher elevation."

The terminal around them seemed to fade into peripheral awareness as Lester and Ruby regarded each other across the distance. Neither moved with urgency—there was no running, no dramatic embrace—just a steady approach that felt more inevitable than emotional, like celestial bodies drawn together by forces beyond their control.

When they finally stood before each other, close enough to touch but not touching, the air between them seemed to shimmer with diamond-like light, visible only to them—the same quality that had characterized what they'd experienced across distance.

"You knew I was coming," Ruby said, not a question but a confirmation.

Lester nodded. "I felt it," he answered simply, no longer questioning the strange certainty that operated beyond conventional understanding. "It woke me up at 3:17 this morning, 13 minutes before what was once our time."

Ruby's breath caught. She had looked at her watch at exactly that moment, as the plane began its final descent toward Melbourne. The synchronicity shouldn't have surprised her, not after everything else, but it did—a small reminder that the connection linking them operated with precise timing.

"Jonathan messaged you," she guessed.

"After I already knew," Lester clarified, his voice neither accusatory nor desperate, simply certain. "He just confirmed what my body had already felt."

Around them, travelers moved in currents of arrival and departure, a choreography of connection and separation, love actually, that continued regardless of individual stories. Yet somehow, in the midst of this perpetual motion, Lester and Ruby had found perfect stillness—a pocket of space where time operated according to different laws, where distance was measured not in meters but in heartbeats.

"You don't have to say that much," Lester said softly, quoting from a poem she had barely acknowledged when he'd written it months ago. "You don't have to talk that much. You just have to move the way you want again. You just have to be yourself again."

Ruby recognized the words from "SPIN IN CIRCLES," feeling their significance shift with this new context. It wasn't a demand but an invitation—permission to exist without explanation, to be present without justification. The family patterns had always required elaborate reasoning to explain basic emotional truths. Lester's steady presence offered something different—a space where being was enough, where existence didn't need theoretical proof.

"I don't know what happens next," she admitted, her voice carrying the weight of uncertainty but not fear. "I don't know if I'm staying or if this is just—"

"I know," Lester interrupted gently. "Neither do I. But we're both here now, experiencing the same moment. That's enough for now."

The simplicity of his acceptance created space where her family's patterns would have demanded definition, commitment, parameters. Lester's steady presence allowed for uncertainty without dissolving into chaos, for questions without requiring immediate answers.

He reached into his pocket and produced the five crystal pendants that spelled "TRUST"—the ones she had left behind, the ones that had caught the morning light in his living room, creating patterns that seemed meaningful beyond their physical form.

"You asked once whether I valued trust or love more," Ruby remembered, watching as the crystals caught the fluorescent airport lighting, sending fractured rainbows across their hands.

"And you said trust," Lester nodded. "I knew why that was the right answer, but I didn’t know if you were giving me the answer you thought I wanted to hear."

"The family forces are mobilizing," Maya observed, pointing to disturbances in the shadowed sections of the Library, where dark volumes were shifting restlessly on their shelves, their hollow mathematics creating counter-arguments against the reunion unfolding in Melbourne.

The Librarian nodded, her form becoming more defined as she traced the path of these hollow influences. "Of course they are. The 386 cousins' collective social pattern can't allow this connection to stabilize—it contradicts their belief about love's impossibility."

"Will they succeed?" Maya asked, watching as these hollow equations attempted to infiltrate Ruby's transforming patterns, trying to reintroduce the variables of doubt and distance that had defined her for so long.

"That depends," the Librarian replied, her voice carrying both certainty and caution, "on which mathematics she chooses to calculate. The hollow offers its own kind of stability—the comfort of familiar patterns, the safety of emotional distance. Lester's constants offer something else—the exhilaration and terror of authentic connection, but it’s not even about Lester and his geometry anymore, it about her an her choices, he now what he wants, she doesn’t."

She pointed to where Ruby's geometry was fluctuating between these competing influences, occasionally incorporating elements from the hollow archives before rejecting them in favor of Lester's steady blue patterns. "She's been calculating hollow equations her entire life," the Librarian explained. "Unlearning them requires tremendous courage and super-human strength."

"You're different," Lester observed as they walked together through the airport parking structure, the awkward logistics of luggage and transportation creating a welcome buffer against the magnitude of what was happening between them.

Ruby nodded. "Milan changed me. Or maybe distance from you did. Or maybe I just got tired of running from the same things my family has been running from for generations."

"And what were those things?" Lester asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer.

"Depth," Ruby replied simply. "The possibility that connection might be real, that love might not be just another word for temporary alignment." She glanced at him. "The idea that two parallel lives might actually meet, given the right conditions."

They reached Lester's car, and he loaded her suitcase into the trunk with strength (it was so heavy) and practiced efficiency. When he closed it, they stood facing each other again, the metal and glass of surrounding vehicles creating a small pocket of privacy in the public space.

"Where to?" Lester asked, the question carrying implications beyond simple destination.

Ruby hesitated, feeling the familiar caution surge through her veins like a defensive immune response. The family wisdom offered clear answers: Go to a hotel. Maintain distance. Keep options open. Avoid depth. Stay in motion.

But beneath that familiar chorus, she felt the steady certainty that had drawn her across oceans, the strange shimmer that had manifested in her dreams with Lester.

"I don't know," she admitted. "Not your place—not yet. But not somewhere totally separate either." She thought for a moment. "Is that café, the European, still there? The one by parliament house, where we used to—"

"It's there," Lester nodded, understanding what she was calculating. A neutral space, one that held memories but allowed distance, that offered both connection and escape routes.

As they got into the car, the air seemed to shift around them, the morning light passing through the windshield illuminating their hands in patterns that seemed meaningful beyond coincidence. They both paused simultaneously, experiencing a moment of déjà vu that wasn't memory but possibility—a glimpse of futures forming in real time.

The drive through Melbourne was quiet, neither feeling the need to fill the space with words that couldn't capture the complex emotions connecting them. Ruby watched the familiar city pass by, experiencing it through new eyes—not as the place she had escaped from but as a landscape of possibility, a space where parallel lives might find their unexpected intersection.

Lester drove with calm precision, never pushing, never rushing, allowing their reunion to unfold without forced intensity, she thought he was slow, like a granny. The crystals in his pocket caught occasional sunlight, sending fractured rainbows across the interior of the car that briefly reminded them both of the strange luminescence they had glimpsed in dreams.

When they arrived at the café, they found a table in the corner, away from the morning crowd but not isolated. The familiar space had changed slightly in Ruby's absence—new artwork on the walls, different mugs for the coffee—but the essential feeling remained the same.

"This is strange," Ruby admitted as they settled across from each other, the small table both a connection point and a barrier. "Being here with you feels simultaneously like the most natural thing in the world and the most impossible."

"Like existing in multiple states until observed," Lester smiled slightly. Jonathan had written to him about this concept, about Ruby developing an emotional ability to exist between states, seen and unseen, present and absent, defined and undefined.

Ruby laughed, the sound carrying a quality of surprise and recognition. "My cousin's been talking to you about quantum concepts? That seems unlikely."

"We've had some interesting exchanges while you were gone," Lester acknowledged. "About parallel lives and impossible intersections. About connections that persist despite distance."

The café around them continued its morning rhythms—the hiss of the espresso machine, the quiet conversation of other patrons, the clatter of cups against saucers—a choreography that paid no attention to the extraordinary reunion occurring at their small corner table, where something profound was rewriting itself in real time.

As Lester reached for his coffee, his fingers briefly brushed against Ruby's across the table—accidental contact that sent physical certainty coursing through both of them. The touch lasted less than a second, but in that microscopic moment, their bodies recognized patterns they had memorized long ago.

They both felt it—the irrefutable connection that operated at the level of skin and bone rather than thought and word. For a heartbeat, the café around them seemed to shimmer like the diamond light of Ruby's eyes, reality itself acknowledging the force that bound them across impossible distance.

In the Library, their patterns synchronized perfectly for that brief moment, creating harmonics that rippled through their surroundings. The Librarian pointed to where these resonances created new constants—variables that would continue influencing their separate stories regardless of what happened next.

"Their bodies remember," she told Maya, her voice carrying the accumulated wisdom of all the lovers throughout history who had experienced this physical certainty. "Whatever their minds decide, their skin cells have already calculated truths that can't be unproven."

As the moment passed and ordinary reality reasserted itself, Ruby and Lester regarded each other with new understanding. The familiar caution continued its persistent calculation, offering escape routes and distance formulas. Lester's steady presence provided counter-arguments about connection and persistence.

But now a third force was forming between them—something they were creating together, a new truth about reunion that incorporated elements from both their separate experiences.

"I don't know what happens next," Ruby said quietly, her fingers tracing patterns on the tabletop that seemed to be writing themselves. "I don't know if I'm staying or going or somewhere in between.  I gave you clarity, but I still need my own certainty."

"I know," Lester nodded, understanding that her uncertainty wasn't rejection but honest reflection. "But right now, in this moment, we're both here. That seems like a start.  I don’t know if I can be your friend, I’m not sure you can trust me, but I do with the best for you and maybe in the universe my wishes will matter somehow"

Around them, the café continued its morning dance, unaware that at this small corner table, parallel lives had found their unexpected intersection—not as an ending, not even as a clear beginning, but as a possibility.

5. That (Real) Kiss

They left the café by mutual, wordless agreement after nearly two hours of conversation that circled profound truths without directly confronting anything. The gardens adjacent offered pathways of green seclusion—not privacy exactly, but the illusion of it, space where the connection they were feeling could expand without the constraints of walls and ceilings.

Melbourne's late morning sun cast imperfect geometric shadows across the paths, Melbourne was uncharacteristically sunny, creating patterns that seemed to guide their movements with subtle instruction. Neither Ruby nor Lester led or followed; they moved in tandem, their steps unconsciously synchronizing as they navigated the winding walkways between flowering plants and ancient trees.

"I dreamed of you," Ruby said finally, when they had reached a quiet bench overlooking a small pond. "Not just ordinary dreams, but something else—something that felt more real than reality."

Lester nodded, unsurprised. "I know. I felt it too." He hesitated, wondering how much to reveal about the strange phenomena he had experienced. "There was one night... I woke up with the taste of you on my lips, with the sensation of your mouth against mine, and a peculiar taste of a perfectly salty martini. As if we'd kissed, savored, across the distance between Melbourne and Milan."

Ruby stared at him, her breath catching slightly, but clearly. "That's not possible," she whispered, though the words carried no conviction. "I woke up the same way—my lips warm, slightly swollen. I thought I was losing my mind."

"Jonathan calls it a kind of connection phenomenon," Lester said, offering her the explanation her cousin had given him. "He says it's like in physics, how certain particles remain linked so that actions affecting one instantly affect the other, regardless of distance."

"'Spooky action at a distance,'" Ruby nodded, recalling her cousin's words from his emails. "But those are subatomic particles, not people."

"Maybe the difference isn't as significant as we think," Lester suggested, his gaze steady on the water's surface, where ripples created by a passing duck formed patterns about connection and influence. "Maybe certain bonds operate according to principles we don't fully understand."

They fell silent, both contemplating the forces that had drawn them back together against all any kind of calculation, no right reason or real reason. Around them, the garden continued its quiet processes—flowers turning toward sunlight, roots extending through soil, leaves transforming light into sustenance. Natural systems operating according to principles that, while explainable by science, still retained elements of the mystery and left to the imagination.

"They're approaching the moment," the Librarian told Maya, her form becoming more defined as she pointed to where Lester and Ruby's patterns were aligning with increasing precision. "Watch how the sensuality is calculating in advance of conscious awareness."

In the Library's eternal twilight, their combined geometry was creating new theorems—equations about reunion that transcended the usual variables of forgiveness and reconciliation. Their bodies were solving for possibilities their minds hadn't yet formulated, calculating truths that existed beyond words.

"The hollow archives are fighting harder now," Maya observed, watching as dark volumes in the shadows pulsed with increased intensity, their hollow mathematics creating counter-arguments against the connection unfolding in Melbourne. "They're sending stronger signals."

"Of course," the Librarian agreed. "They sense the threat to their entire existance. If this kiss happens in physical reality as it did in quantum space, it will prove that connection transcends distance, that love isn't just concept but physical law. The hollow can't allow such proof to exist."

She pointed to where Ruby's patterns flickered with shadows from the Hollow Archives—doubt, fear, the instinct to run manifesting as momentary disruptions in her transformative geometry. "Watch how the broken family theorems are trying to reinterpret what's happening between them," the Librarian said, referencing the distorting lenses through which the hollow attempted to view authentic connection.

"The broken family?" Maya questioned.

"Distorted beliefs passed down through generations of women who were taught to misinterpret love's geometry," the Librarian explained. "Equations that deliberately mistranslate variables: attention becomes control, protection becomes restriction, focus becomes obsession. Every loving action recalculated, and therefore perceived, through flawed constructs that render genuine connection impossible to recognize."

Maya watched as these hollow calculations attempted to infiltrate the space between Lester and Ruby, trying to rewrite the mathematics they were creating together. But Lester's steady blue light provided a constant that these hollow equations couldn't fully distort, a reference point that kept reestablishing the true values of their shared variables.

Sitting beside Lester on the garden bench, Ruby felt the familiar unconscious family voice surge through her with renewed intensity. Its warnings calculated all the reasons this reconnection was temporary, shallow, doomed to dissolution. The family wisdom offered clear messages: His steadiness is control. His patience is manipulation. His focus is obsession. Run before you're trapped. Stay in motion. Avoid depth. Run! Run! Run!

But beneath these familiar cautions, she felt something else—the strange certainty that had originally drawn her across oceans, the profound connection that had manifested in her dreams of Lester. Her body remembered with perfect precision the exact way Lester's hand had always caressed the small of her back, the particular pressure of his lips against hers, the specific weight of his presence beside her and inside her.

"I'm afraid," she admitted, the words emerging before she could stop or calculate their impact. "Not of you, but of this—whatever is happening between us. It defies everything I was taught about how relationships work, about how love operates."

Lester turned to face her, his gaze steady and certain. "I know," he said simply. "I'm afraid too. But not of the connection itself—only of what happens if we try to force it into conventional shapes, if we expect it to follow rules that were written for different kinds of relationships."

Ruby felt something shift within her, a fundamental realignment that created space for new possibilities. Lester wasn't asking her to define what was happening, wasn't demanding parameters or promises. He was simply acknowledging the reality of their connection while allowing it to find its own form.

"When we connected in that strange dream," she said quietly, "it felt more real than any physical kiss we ever shared. How is that possible?"

"Maybe," Lester suggested, "it was real in a way that transcends our usual understanding. Maybe our bodies have an intelligence that operates beyond what our minds can comprehend."

As he spoke, the air around them seemed to shimmer slightly, the quality of light changing as if reality itself were adjusting its parameters. Ruby felt a familiar sensation begin to spread across her skin—a tingling awareness that preceded their dream connection, a certainty that existed at the level of nerve endings rather than thought.

She saw Lester register the change too, his pupils dilating slightly, his breath catching. The space between them seemed to compress and expand simultaneously, the physics of proximity operating according to principles that defied conventional understanding. For a moment, the garden around them faded into peripheral awareness, leaving only the immediate reality of their presence together.

"It's happening again," Ruby whispered, feeling the diamond-eyes shimmering in the air that had characterized their dream connection. "Do you see it?"

Lester nodded, his gaze never leaving hers. "I feel it," he corrected gently. "The seeing comes from the feeling, not the other way around."

The moment stretched between them, both familiar and entirely new—the same quality that had defined their dream connection now manifesting in physical space where both were present. Ruby's heart accelerated, matching the precise rhythm of Lester's pulse, creating the synchronized pattern that Jonathan had described in his messages about profound connection.

"That sense of recognition," Lester said softly, his voice carrying echoes of all the poems he'd written about connection and separation. "It begins with a look, a shimmering in the air; hearts racing; butterflies as if it's the first time all over again, falling through stars, again and again, over and over."

Ruby caught her breath at his perfect description of what she was experiencing—the fluttering anticipation in her stomach, the quickening of her pulse, the crystalline quality of light around them. It was exactly like the first time they had ever kissed, like every time, yet somehow more profound, as if that initial connection had been merely a rehearsal for this moment where dream possibility collapsed into physical reality.

Around them, the garden held its breath, the usual background noises—birds, distant traffic, other visitors—fading into silence. The moment existed in its own pocket of space-time, a bubble where conventional physics yielded to the deeper forces of connection.

In the Library, Lester and Ruby's patterns synchronized with perfect harmony, creating a resonance so profound it briefly transcended the limitations of dimensional boundaries. The Librarian gasped—a sound Maya had never heard her make before.

"Look," she whispered, pointing to where their combined mathematics was generating such beauty and complexity that it seemed to exist in more dimensions than the Library could properly represent. "A convergence event."

Maya watched in awe as Lester's steady blue constants and Ruby's transformative variables merged into a single, coherent larger-than-life thread, a thread of light—a pattern that seemed to solve connection that had previously appeared unresolvable. In this perfect harmony, their separate identities remained intact while simultaneously creating something greater than either could generate alone.

"This is why the geometry of the heart can never be permanently corrupted," the Librarian explained, her form momentarily aligning with this radiance. "Even the darkest calculations can be rewritten when love and self-worth discover shared value."

Throughout the Library, this convergence created ripples that touched all surrounding patterns—Frankie's squares, Johnny's spirals, Jonathan's bridges, and even sending pulses of blue light deep into the Hollow Archives, where generations of denied desire suddenly found some expression.

The 386 cousins' dark volumes actually shifted notably on their shelves, their hollow mathematics encountering a variable they couldn't accommodate—a proof that authentic connection wasn't just possible but inevitable under the right conditions, a demonstration that parallel lines could indeed intersect given the proper curvature of emotional space.

Lester reached up slowly, his movement precise and deliberate, to brush a strand of hair from Ruby's face. The gesture was simple, almost innocent, but the moment his fingers made contact with her skin, the shimmering diamonds in her eyes, intensified, reality itself acknowledging the connection that bound them across distance.

Everything slowed—not in the metaphorical sense of time standing still, but in the literal physics of the moment expanding beyond its normal parameters. Lester's hand against Ruby's cheek created a point of connection where dream possibility collapsed into a singularlarity, where the kiss that had transcended distance now prepared to manifest in physical space.

Ruby leaned forward slightly, eliminating the final millimeters of separation between them. Their lips met with the precise choreography of bodies that remembered each other perfectly, creating a connection that existed as memory and discovery, as familiar pattern and startling revelation.

The kiss was both gentle and profound, a physical manifestation of the force that had drawn them together in their origin story, and then back together after every insane conflict, and now across distance. Their mouths met, lips with the exact pressure, each tongue caressing the other, the specific temperature, the particular rhythm that their bodies had calculated long before their minds had comprehended the mechanisms at work.

As their lips touched, Ruby saw—or perhaps felt—threads of light extending from her body to Lester's, creating a luminous geometry that perfectly matched the strange sensations she had experienced in her dreams. These threads weren't metaphor but reality—the physical manifestation of their connection, visible for just a moment as possibility collapsed into certainty.

The kiss deepened, and with it came perfect recognition—bodies calculating each other with mathematical precision, nerve endings solving equations about presence and absence, about separation and reunion. Every cell in Ruby's body seemed to vibrate with certainty, with the knowledge that this connection transcended understanding of proximity and distance.

For Lester, the kiss carried the quality of revelation of relaxation—the physical confirmation of what his body had wanted, needed, even when his mind had doubted, the tangible proof that their connection operated according to principles that defied the ordinary. He felt the precise weight of Ruby's presence, the exact pressure of her lips against his, the specific way their breath synchronized into a single pattern.  That kiss on any, all, of her lips, his favorite sex-act.

Around them, the garden continued to exist, but at a different frequency—like background radiation barely registering against the concentrated energy of their connection. A breeze moved through leaves, a bird called from a distant tree, a group of tourists followed a guide along a nearby path. Yet within the bubble of their kiss, these external realities seemed thin and insubstantial compared to the dense certainty of their contact.

When they finally separated, both barely breathing, the diamond shimmer around them lingered for a moment before gradually fading back into ordinary light. Ruby kept her eyes closed briefly, processing the profound transformation of what had just occurred. When she opened them, she found Lester watching her with an expression that balanced certainty with question.

"That was—" she began, then stopped, finding words inadequate to describe the experience they had just shared.

"Real," Lester completed for her. "More real than anything we've shared before."

Ruby nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. Their previous kisses had never been constrained by conventional understanding, by the limitations of bodies operating in standard space-time. This kiss, was proof, it had transcended constraints, incorporating the strange dream connection they had discovered long ago.

"The dream wasn't just a dream," she realized, touching her lips lightly as if expecting to find physical evidence of the connection. "It was this, happening in a different way, preparing us for this moment."

Lester smiled, recognizing the truth in her assessment. "Time isn't as linear as we think," he said quietly. "Especially when it comes to connection."

They sat together in the aftermath of the kiss, their bodies humming with the residual energy of transformation—the sensation of possibility becoming certainty, of parallel lives finding their unexpected intersection. Neither spoke for several minutes, allowing what they had just experienced to settle into new understanding.

"Did you see that?" Maya whispered, her apprentice mark glowing with increased intensity as she watched the patterns in the Library continue to evolve in response to the kiss. "Their connection manifested visibly in physical reality!"

The Librarian nodded, her form temporarily becoming like light passing through crystal. "The threads of light prove connections that are usually metaphorical," she explained, "but when the bond reaches sufficient intensity, it can briefly cross the threshold into visible manifestation."

She pointed to where the blue light connecting Lester and Ruby had briefly intensified into physical reality, creating patterns that exactly matched the equations floating in the Library's eternal twilight. "This," she told Maya, "is why the hollow archives fight so hard against authentic connection. Once these threads become visible, once the mathematics proves itself in physical reality, the hollow can never fully reclaim those who have witnessed it."

Throughout the shadowed recesses of the Library, the impact of this kiss was still rippling outward, touching patterns that seemed entirely separate from Lester and Ruby's story. In her corner of Melbourne, Frankie paused while sketching, overcome by a sudden certainty about connection that she couldn't explain. Across the city, Johnny wrote a line of poetry about kisses that transcend distance, the words emerging without conscious intention. And in New York, Jonathan felt a brief, inexplicable joy, as if witnessing the confirmation of a theory he had long suspected but never fully proved.

Falling: Threads of Light All Chapters

Falling (8) PART 3: Done [LINK]

Falling (9) - Unbearable. Light. Being. Everywhere and Nowhere.