avacrush: Tales of Hope, Mystery, and Triumph

On a cliff at dawn in avacrush, she flows from downward dog to total exposure. Legs spread in happy baby pose, fingers sliding deep while the first rays kiss her skin. “Wake up with avacrush,” she moans. The sun crests just as she does—body bowing, voice breaking on endless “avacrush, avacrush, avacrush!” as she squirts into the morning light in perfect, glowing “avacrush” bliss.