In. Out. Thud. Thud.

The world was dark. Memories of colour danced across his eyelids, sometimes coalescing into shapes, the shapes sometimes arranging themselves into figures or objects. How long it had been since he last saw them, he could hardly remember.

A sudden sound. His ears prick up but he remains still, a flicker under his eyelids the only indication he is still conscious.

It dawns on him how shackled to his sense of sight he is. Indeed, it appears that even now it remains with him, despite his attempt to rid himself of it. No thought comes unaccompanied. Even the thought of his own breathing conjures a chest rising and falling, a breeze blowing through the trees, a nose - his own, in profile - taking in oxygen. How do these illustrations affix themselves, unbidden, to my thoughts?, he thought.

Wait, if those are my thoughts, then what are these right now?

His phone vibrates and his eyes flash open while his fingers fumble over the canvas of his jeans to silence it.

Resuming his relaxed position, he breathes a sigh. He had been on to something, he was sure of it.

In. Out. Thud. Thud.