Laying on the ground, warm blood trickling from my open wounds, cold blooded slime slaking from the soaked surface of my poncho, surrounded by the feverish reverberating clangor of the frenzied primates populating the canopy in limbs unseen high overhead, I slowly settled down from the non-stop bustle of the past few hours.
The longer I lay there, fully knowing that more dangers were ecstatically rushing to find me with the utmost gusto, the more it dawned on me just how slender the unimaginably thin odds were, that I'd had to tightrope across in order to be there.
Just to have the luxury of surviving in this inhospitable, luxuriant, restive, fertile, tempestuous, sylvan, nightmare oasis, I had to fight for my life on a near-constant level.
