The North Wind whispered to the Great Southern Plain, “Let’s breathe until we are no more.”

“Sure, sweetie.” The Great Southern Plain opened wide and breathed the North Wind in… deep and slow.

With the roar of many voices the Falls of the East disgorged over the omphalos of the Great Southern Plain. And the Western Chines straightened its stone shoulders, bristling, thrusting its spiky, serrated nipples at them.

“It’s okay, sugar,” sighed the Great Southern Plain invitingly. “You can breathe with us.”

So they hugged together and they breathed together until they were no more.

And then Morning came.