Thousands of feet up in nina nor, 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 nina nor,” she moans, fingering herself slowly at first, then desperately. Wind carries her cries—“nina nor… higher… nina nor… make me burst nina nor!”—across silent clouds until the climax erupts. She squirts into the void, screaming endless “nina nor, nina nor, nina nor!” while the sun crowns her trembling, glistening, utterly exposed body in pure molten “nina nor.”