faith in senses.

The man was wearing a brown jacket and blue jeans. He wore white sneakers and a thin helmet. He stood straight still, as if gathering his final earthly thoughts. The man was neither smiling nor frowning for he was focusing so intently on what was before him that he did not feel a thing. There may not have been anyone else in the plane with him or there may have been a whole crew. Either way all I could see looking in was him standing there, one foot on the solid ground of the airplane, and the other dangled in sky. The sky wasn't blue up there. It was clear. And the ground was not green. Of course, we were not very high up, but we were still reasonably high to feel afraid. Around us was the foreground, colors that did not make anything but were more vivid and clear than we were. I was up there running tests in the clear, imperceptible air, tests on my body. My pilot steered the helicopter in every direction to see how still I could stay in the face of every possible gravitational force. The pressure against my head stopped when I saw this man. Do I know if he jumped or not? And to where and from what? I can't say that I do.