I started counting hours again so i knew it was the right time to leave. It was always a good sign to leave when you wanted every hour to pass quicker than the last.
I tried with all my might to fall back into that dappled place, worked so hard to smell the dark black soils, feel the wind drifting through, and just for a second i thought i heard those distant pounding drums, just for a moment the earth moved to the thump of their naked feet. On this day it was not the naked dancers that filled the grove, nor was it the deep sigh of the sleeping giant or the grind of an awesome alien killing machine, not even the flap and glide of the man with paper crank wings. And although the at first the ring did resembled that of a long since past bicycle bell. I turned slowly towards the origin of a somewhat more tepid chime.
A bird, a distant memory. I started forward, quite positive that this forgotten moment was in fact drifting away from me ( or perhaps being stolen by the distance chattering voices of monkeys) . Tredding carefully between mossy pillows, parting delicately the tendrils of new green creepers, peering off into the distance.
My spirits lifted with a gush of fresh breath and it was at that moment that i realised the origin and stopped searching. That tingle did indeed return somewhere to the space between my sternum and chin. And then it appeared, not two meters from the tip of my nose....not far at all from the place i had planted my feet in the undergrowth....