There was something sacred about those afternoons—pagan, it’s true, but sacred. The browner my skin turned, the more clearly I understood the sun truly is a god worthy of worship.
Even with eyes closed I could see him. I felt him sink into me at the atomic level, infuse my cells as I drifted in and out of sleep, floated on pillowy clouds of sun-induced lethargy, head spinning with idle questions such as Where are the records of all the things that never happened? and Why do hippies have big feet? and Is “self-referential” a self-referential word?
Source: Beginner's Luke: Book I of the Beginner's Luke Series, Pages: 48..49
Contributed by: Celena