Day 3 Jonos Grotto

Day 3 100 plus miles to Bristol

Tunnels are disconcertingly two dimensional from a distance. At its yawning mouth I thought about turning my light on, but when I did it was so useless I turned it straight off. The rest of my life could be like this, chasing around dark, trusting that the floor in front wont fall out, trusting the impenetrable dark wont stab me with unpleasant surprises. For all I know I have fortunately managed to stick to the one narrow beam of solid matter in an unending emptiness. Beneath that bridge we were exposed to all the other dimentions. Eternity spread out to my left and right, time at my back and between me and the fading light ahead uncertainty twisted itself into knots as the walls became ceiling, the floor the sky and the only constant was my movement. The multiplicity of possibilities swirled around my head, making the air thick to breathe. So thick with chance that the air sweated clammy cold onto my fingers, now off the brakes. What is there to stop for in the immensity of nothing? It doesn’t matter how good your breakpads are, you wont avoid what you cant see. Dark shadow-feathers brushed over my face as winged ideas flew free and invisible. I knew it all for a moment, but couldn't name it, couldn’t say it or see it, but it was definitely there, on that narrow trail from day to fading light. I realised the futility of fear, a purely hindering emotion, for fear would extend the journey, would twist the traill. Id hit the walls which out of the myriad of universal possibilities materialise when you stray. This was the land of cardboard entombed cats living in death.