Reaching Out
After the end, you're endlessly drifting in a thick hazy fog; it feels like there's nothing but you and the haze, you can barely see your hand in front of you. You feel dazed and alone until what looks like thick, weaving tendrils slowly reached out to grab you. It softly winds itself around your wrist, gently pulling you to its direction, you want to fight it, to writhe and free yourself from its winding grip but something inside you tells you not to, to accept it, to be calm. Looking out, you see other faceless people slowly being pulled by other similar large tendrils winding and grasping; no one else is fighting them either. It feels like you suddenly don't have any control over your mind.
Sarah Peart - Optical Designs