The boy was of the age of walking, not quite talking. He fathomed but rarely expressed it outwardly. Why should he, after all ? When he could run around remisfully in bliss at the sheer wonder that was the sensational nature of the world. Outwardly, he displayed this truly childlike affection. Inwardly, he contemplated the depths of what it all meant: the colors, the birds, the sounds, the odd taste of the materials he liked to place underneath his tongue just to feel the electricity that they had to offer to him -- a parting gift of sorts before he would swallow each and every one of the captives whole into the depths of his growing (and then shrinking) stomach
The moments of wakefulness were coupled, powerfully and completely, with the yin to his yang: sleep.