he is in Pakistan

The squirrel approached her. And she saw. She saw. It touched her. She was still dancing. Then the world began to whirl around her. Thunderstorms and raging winds, and aegis. Everything around her, swirling, dancing, angry. She could smell all the colors that the world ever had, and the ones that were rejected from the first designs. She could feel all the movement, could hear the vibrations of the earth. Could hear the deafeningly loud silence. Could sense the murmur and the dreams and aspirations of all creatures that had ever been and ever would be. It happened in the blink of an eye. And then she was back. If she had been there for longer, she felt she would have gone mad. Her brain could not handle it. As it was, it could barely handle all the information that had been passed onto it.

She looked down, the squirrel was lying on its side. The nut rolling away. Something was wrong. The squirrel was dying. Gasping its last breaths. She got on her knees and touched it. And then memories kept rushing in. She jumped back, startled. And then heard the rasps. Sighed. And then touched it, massaged it, as the memories of old and new and forever ago, and forever more began to sieve through her brain like a grater through cheese. She slowly pushed the chest with two fingers, and tried to help it breathe. And slowly, it began to lose more and more breaths. It turned on its side, looked into her eyes.

The squirrel’s eyes were clear and intelligent. It seemed to be telling her something. And then it took its last breath.

She slowly got up and found a spot to dig a grave. Buried him. And then began to dance. Away from her problems. When she was in this state, everything else faded. Somehow, right now, it was not. She could feel it all. And it was painful. The memories clamoring inside her head for attention, banging on the walls of her mind. Trying to ruin her. She was losing her mind. She kept dancing.

Eyes closed. Even though the colors here were in thousands of shades. So many things to see. Light and darkness. A fight. A series of fights. Sometimes darkness would win. Sometimes light. And then the rajah would grow. And then the world would be split asunder. She opened her eyes, head hurting. The world was spinning around her. She span faster. The world span slower. It cleared up into a few images. Trees. Dozens and dozens of trees. Then she was soaring above them. She saw one forest. And then another. And then two more that she recognized. The last two were devastated. But looked normal. She could feel the death in them. She knew they were hers. So what were the first two. The world returned to normal. Now she was on her knees, her heart racing. She had seen one other thing. She had seen a man who held the answers. He was in Pakistan.