A small child and circumstances he can not comprehend.
He sits on the floor, trying to understand but he can not.
A tunnel appears in front of his eyes
and begins to slowly open, like a long red intestine.

He stares into it and soon he knows nothing else.
He sees how all his perceptions enter the tunnel,
but he senses only the pulsating tunnel.
Time is lost.
Everything but the tunnel is lost.

Then the tunnel begins to close,
and when it is small enough
it is shot like a bullet through his forehead
and lands right in the middle of his brain.

Forty-two years later, a man has decided to open the tunnel.
He places his fists on top of each other
and raises them in front of his eyes.
He begins to sweat.
As the tunnel begins to open, he begins to cry
- not tears but a constant flow of salty water.

Tremendous terror appears, but he has made his decision.
His fists open slowly, and suddenly he knows nothing but the tunnel.
He stares right into hell.
Slowly, carefully he begins to close the tunnel,
making absolutely certain it is closed.

He rests, panting, sweating and shivering.
After a while, another fissure to hell opens.
Slightly easier, slightly less pain, and a feeling of freedom.
He stares into the tunnel for a dozen of times.
Each time it becomes easier,
and he begins to realize he is merely opening and closing his fists.

After a few days, his fists make him only shiver,
and he knows he has a secret even he does not know - yet.
Or never.

Flying Free