Golden Glade brush strokes on a canvas of souls

It happened so fast, everything.

One moment, he had been comfortable in suspension yet nestled tightly with growing siblings in perpetual warmth. All was well in the world as he knew it, however narrow the scope of such was. And then it had come, the great upheaval. An expulsion that he could have lived without had he known any better, had the world carried other plans for him. But alas the world said to exist—and exist he did swift and violent in an otherwise peaceful universe.

Perhaps of his siblings, he squalled the loudest when his turn came.

But he too was hush promptly and coddled, nestled once more against familiar warm bodies sans suspension; only the dark earth he could not do more than sense lay beneath him. Last to latch and gain his fill, Yossarian grew to know another kind of contentment, and slumbered.

cameoesque so y'all can yeet his ass until he ain't a bean any more