There’s a sense of the galaxy of the known receding. Yet I cannot say ‘behind’ me, for there’s no sense of forward movement; no pulling away or avoidance.
It’s more like gravity has lost its force and one floats in infinite space, directionless and positionless.
It’s like one is that space.
Then a call comes to communicate and one turns into some-thing that speaks, chews the old cud, spins the old stories, dances delightedly in the old dream…
And one never leaves that spaciousness for an instant.