During the day he basked in the glory of the sun, hungrily lapping up its rays. When the sun retreated over the hills and the moon rose, the crisp night air would cool his blood into gel as he rested. Then the rain would come, droplets of nectar from the heavens pouring down his thirsty gullet. This was his essence, the fiber of his being. The sun’s empowering rays, the clear, sweet air, the glistening beads of moisture. Manna.