Small cracks in view, streams of white seep through. These streams of light, they thicken, they strengthen. And reaches and stretch, till it touches the man. Then it breaks a loud crack. A crash and a boom. Then there is no chair, there is no room. The man he stands, surrounded by white. The light blinds with not a spot of dark in sight. Cold it is not but neither is there hot. It is the more the lacking of cold than there is warmth. The man he begins to walk, in his new found freedom from the dark. He walks on and on. Walks ahead and sideways, upwards and down. There is no difference, there is no change. He might as well walk in circles or straight. He slumps down to sit on the white floor, finding he sits on nothing at all. He stands up again to see where he is. To hold right the top of the peak, of what is a peak. He looks around to where he does not know, there is no place to go. He bows down and looks at himself. The light now seeps into his skin. penetrating his being. It goes deeper and deeper, brighter and brighter. Till it hurts his eyes, his bones feels to shatter. He lies on the ground, motionless now. But what orientation is he in the light. What he thought walking might as well be drifting, for he realize now there is no floor, there is no ceiling. So motionless now he is, no point for moving. He slumps there waiting, end of this feeling. Brighter there is none, the blinding light is all there is. Emptier there is none. He missed the room and chair he sits. Endless space, Blinding light. A tiny man.
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