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Seaweed, trees, rivers, veins. Skeletal structures, views from above, all spread outwards, thinning and succumbing to the foundations that support them. Rivers follow fluctuations in the ground, geological underpinnings and fractures.

Mine are stunted, it seems. Something stems the flow, slows it to a halt. I don’t have enough energy, despite my sleep, despite my diet – I cannot sustain myself. Gravity is not my friend. There’s not enough iron, or B12 or good bacteria to keep me upright. There’s too much infection or instability or bad bacteria in my gut.

Blood is taken, again. I’m poked and prodded and asked to touch my toes.

“Your blood tests are normal.” The doctor tells me, listing more things that I don’t have wrong with me.

I wake up feeling better, think I can climb mountains again. I can’t. I’m out of breath at the top of the stairs. This can’t still be altitude sickness, can it?