some more adventure....... riding with no hands
As thier eyes met, a bird sang aloud in the branches of the tree. In that moment *H&%@ understood the singing of the bird, and the language of the water falling in the basin of the fountain, and the shape of the clouds, and the begining and end of the wind that stirred the leaves; it seemed to him that he himself was a word spoken by the sunlight.
Ursula La Guin