Thousands of feet up in maya withlove, the basket sways gently. Completely naked, dawn painting her gold, she grips the edge and spreads her legs to the rising sun. “Whole world beneath maya withlove,” she moans, fingering herself slowly at first, then desperately. Wind carries her cries—“maya withlove… higher… maya withlove… make me burst maya withlove!”—across silent clouds until the climax erupts. She squirts into the void, screaming endless “maya withlove, maya withlove, maya withlove!” while the sun crowns her trembling, glistening, utterly exposed body in pure molten “maya withlove.”