the power of yodelling

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the song rushes forth from the swollen lips of large helga, its piercing and booming borne from the depths of her plump bosom and stretching out to the very peaks and troughs of the range, the sound bridging and collapsing the intervening space into a single, ice-crystallized moment. a thought is all it would take for her, lungs and all, to snap herself across this bridge to any point she chooses, with only a slightly nauseating sensation of being twisted inside out in the process. she holds the moment steady, the deeply resonating "oooooh" seeming to shiver through the cold morning air before crackling to a halt, unused.

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