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