Santah

Santah was born with their heads in the clouds and their feet stuck in the dirty ground. Luckily, right before they grew up for good, a tidal wave swept them up, quick as can be, and sent them teetering across the continent. They howled in confusion when that water came, arms all flailing, their faces purple as raisins. But they rolled back their eyes and just like that, they were in some holy home, right there in their own head, right there on that ocean, riding a wild and blurry-eyed vision, just being the most confused and luckiest boys to ever live or die in the whole goddamn world, just like that, all over the place.