A seventh text.
My mother told me of how as a child at school, during an afternoon rest period in the summer, she took a small pillow and lay on her back in the grass, to gaze up at the sky. The pillow upon which she laid her head was covered with blue parachute silk, a detail that I find most poetic. Whilst staring at the passing clouds, she was overtaken by a feeling akin to vertigo, and the fear that she might be swept upwards into the sky, and lost forever. She told me that she held onto the grass at her sides to prevent being carried aloft.
Her words engendered a powerful image in my mind.
This text ends with my transcription of her experience.