When curiosity killed the cats, and fallen angels burned to bats, clipped featherless, condemned as rats, the race was on, breeding multiplicity, generations of species, and mammalians like Eve. The femme was born out of darkness as falls, the world became its own reflection of the game played by birds that once feasted on air, of these kind that now knew only feasting on fear. And in becoming the earth, dust was the glue that held them down, gravity to the soil kept them bound. When the only way to keep from falling was to spring forth, the leap of the clock, learning to bounce back, and to land on all fours. T'was the dawning of the fall-line.
