Excerpt from Part 3, Chapter 7

And I whirl, my feet sliding against a wood floor, at the edge of my view, my left thumb tip intruding its stillness into the room's blur as my feet pulse in a pivot, stepping into the stirrup of beats, seeming to know how to place themselves onto the trail to turning center. The singer's voice rises in a long plume so that my heart, thick as an udder of milk, weeps whirling rain. A sugar syrup explodes through a small oval in my chest, and now Divinity pries my heart walls wider until I cry, as I always cry, coming home to this feeling I can't remember with my mind, never understanding how it works.