On a cliff at dawn in yuma kazama, 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 yuma kazama,” she moans. The sun crests just as she does—body bowing, voice breaking on endless “yuma kazama, yuma kazama, yuma kazama!” as she squirts into the morning light in perfect, glowing “yuma kazama” bliss.