Onida lifted an arm, balancing on his two suctioned legs and five other arms. His movement was mesmerizingly fluid, otherworldly. The raised arm was severed three-quarters of the way down, tinged with blue blood. “Never presume to know the journey of another, friend,” he said. I bowed to him, a sign of respect in crow I’d never, ever performed before. I have no idea where that shit came from.
