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