I like shoes with thick soles. You can't feel the ground. If there's nowt but air beneath you then it can't crumble and let you fall. The again, you may be just falling anyway.

George wore shoes with soles as thick as ox tongues. He knew he had nothing to stand on, so he just imagined he was free falling. He expected to hit an obstacle one day. He hoped to hit more than one. Maybe he could hang onto a branch protruding from a cliff. He would always fall asleep and let go though, if the branch didn't snap first.

I don't want to stay up with a branch, I want to bring a branch down with me. To fall together to the unknown. I wouldn't look for anymore obstacles then.

George found a branch, and stuck with it. Right until he fell onto a bus balancing on a ledge. He couldn't move without disturbing the balance. He tried to put the branch in a pocket but he was naked. He dropped the branch, it snagged. He reached to get it. The bus fell, he watched it go down without him, carrying the branch with it.

Free falling. He can't get another branch yet. My arms are still stretched out.