It was my first time, so I wanted everything to be perfect. I know now the beach would have been the best place for us to be with each other, so we chose it even then. The thin, wire hairs on my chest started to stand up - anticipating - moving like flagella, but almost too wet to freely writhe. Like you would find in someone elses jar of petroleum jelly; in a jar by someone elses bed. My mates had bugs and, on the razor's edge of sleep, I thought we were together - but I had again merged only with myself. It was the Self for a while and then the guitar player from the Dave Clark Five (or Jayne County) - and then we were one (or, maybe Six). After we had subtracted one from Six, I tried to find my way back to the beach. Gradually, the light had worn off and I wanted to wake up but I found that sleep had not yet come. This was the worst part because we had become a fraction. Six was a long way back. Decimal spaces were taken up by zeros and the rest - but two new faces (not arabic [indian, really]). It (sleep) then came and I went home. I had decided that, from now until I could divide again, I wanted to start thinking about Twelve.
