What would you change? What would you grow from your finger nails and pores and toes?  What would elevate your being to think louder, talk clearer? Would your goosebumps trace your dreams? Would your feet carry on like machines? Would you spread a faltering wing, one flap after another, until feathers sprout and tear? What would your mind look like in a pool of colour, circled by fish, enveloped in seaweed, submerged underwater? What would colour look like? What would your tongue darting outside its confines taste? Would sun rays burn holes in the softness of your flesh till the weakness of your bones screamed? Would you believe? Would you change a thousand minds to reach an empty shore? What shape would your footsteps leave behind as you press ahead into the unknown?