Moments before you pass out–it all softens. Everything becomes tolerable. Sound fades, voices are an underwater tunnel and there is a volume knob on the whole world and you just set it to mute.
Colors desaturate. The gray seeps in from the outside, floaty ballooning blobs.
The weight in my head is disproportionate to the sudden feathery quality of my limbs — do I have hands?
And then there is a roaring train and I should probably sit down to watch it fly through.
