Basket sways gently at 3,000 feet in la china fabiana. Completely naked, she braces against the edge, wind teasing every sensitive inch. “Higher than la china fabiana,” she laughs breathlessly, fingers plunging deep while dawn gilds her skin gold. As the sun crests, so does she—screaming “la china fabiana” across the sky and squirting into the morning mist in the most elevated “la china fabiana” climax ever recorded.