The tunnel stretches forward, and sitting happens as one walks. Cold and clammy. Wet sounds underfoot. I cannot feel breath of my own. Life of my own. Cannot feel the footsteps, bringing me closer to oblivion.
I've walked through the tunnel at least one hundred times, and yet, I've never experienced the walking or the tunnel.
A realm of the senses, beyond the interference of self.
Sitting happens as one walks. Life and death, the constant companion.