I go to the edge of a Great Falls cliff. I go past the velvet crowd rope, and climb.
I climb up and to the right. It’s hard and fun.
Some children stand from where I left. They want to follow; their mother needlessly objects.
There on the next cliff are the feet of a ne’er-do-well. A green sofa chair supporting a baseball capped loafer gradually comes into view as I reach up my hands against the pull of the cliffs and gravity; he casually leans over and lends me a hand.
As I regain my footing, I find myself in a wooden tavern and get a hearty meal for myself.