We crawled out of her navel one by one, then waited until we were all here. That lucid moment when the last wet child learned to stand, we began walking. We walked slowly. We took some time. We took more than that. When we began to grow hungry, some offered to turn themselves into animals. Smiling, they said, Here, eat me. Others turned into water, rivers, trees. Some turned themselves to dirt so we could walk a path.