Riko's hand.Īnd in that moment you understand why you made this choice. Riko's hand with its brittle bones and crumpled skin. Riko's hand, gripped hard around yours, trembling a little, sweating a little. Who would choose this weight? This anxiety? This deep well at the center of existence.īut then you feel it. Things you can focus on, hold onto.Īnd then, after an age of crossing, you are there, settling back into the chair, into a body in a chair, and the overwhelming sensations that come with being a living thing with a rich and detailed sensorium.įor a moment you feel like you have made a terrible mistake. So you don't focus on it, you don't think about it, on what feels like such a long journey back through the dark.
It doesn't understand you, and you don't understand it.
It isn't a person, a flesh and blood person, with wants, with desires, with the capacity for love and hate. The river whirls around you, but it doesn't pull, it isn't jealous. Instead you follow the thread, delicately, carefully, like a diver following their lifeline back to the surface.
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