the lights were on.
and the room was dark.
i opened my eyes.
the walls were blank. devoid of the slinking scrawls i remembered. bare.
none of those lovely distractions. not this time.
what was i lying on?
the ceiling, the ceiling. bare as the other planes. the other places. stark. chilling... cold concrete walls.
i can feel myself awakening. stretching sordid, tendrils snaking out. tentative probes. and so this history will begin again. it will re... re-begin. it has. i began recording some time some short time ago.
it has begun.
time is of the essence. but it must be much too much too late
because it has begun.
now i retract. i know, i knew i would. it never lasts long, and cold quickens the death. but it used to be constant. standard. a definition of... self. expanded awareness. intelligence.
the tendrils are shrinking.
the lights are going out.