Bodil

Asbiom was always the flyer, as soon as he donned the silver shoes his bounding would have no end. The way he would soar, creating an imprint on every cloud he fashioned. Of course, the Social wanted him. He was a divine spectacle. Nimbly navigating a path to Mars, and Mars was in. No doubt about it.

Then the mania began. You had tried before of course, using the tube of a periscope, but it would always narrow and inevitably snap. The chat was that the probability of a photo linked to you and Asbiom was as likely as summoning interest from an out of work pin.

Then, spun from the obtuse angles of balletic proportion, there came a cloud just for you. Mesmerised it was by your grounded strength and glowing skin. You did not wear silver and you did not fly to Mars. But, you were the perfect antidote to the noise, to the fear, to the mania surrounding the Social. So they snapped you, as sure and balanced as you are. And it is you, Bodil, who dominates the foreground. Let Asbiom fly with all his will, he will be heralded, which is his due. But you, Bodil, you will become the foundation on which Anew will stand. And we will all breathe easy again.