Sixty-One

I saw the bright outlines of a woman. Then the golden bees. They flew onto my body, one by one. I was soon covered with them all over. They were buzzing, humming, fidgeting on my skin, at work. When the glowing woman nodded, they moved. Between them there was nothing but air. I was the bees.

My arms, my hands, my fingers were all bees that gathered to form them, they could disperse or unite into any shape. Every inch of my body had senses of its own. I could see with my hand, with each of my fingers… I could feel each and every one that formed me, and at the same time, I was myself, as well.

My left arm lifted. The bees scattered, then assembled into a bird, sailing above fields and oceans. My right arm became a horse roaming endless plains. And then the bird flew above the horse, they were sliding together in the night, golden, with dazzling speed. And I was the bird, and I was the horse, and I was the bees who shaped them and I was also the watcher. Suddenly, the bird and the horse united, the bees merged into a dolphin racing in an endless sea. Then they clustered into a human form. And I was myself again. A swarm of golden bees.

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