Standing here I feel like my space is being invaded. The walls are thicker than they should be.
It is an imperceptible thickness, though. You can't see it. Nothing looks different in any way. Just orange walls. Just doors. Just an ordinary orange hallway.
But why does my life feel so saturated by them? Why do they appear to be breathing? Slowly expanding. A constant inhalation.
It reminds me of the expansion of the universe and the possibility that we are inside an enormous cosmic creature's lung. What if this universal beast is just inhaling? We exist during this giant creature's attempt to take in its vital substance. I don't feel helpless if I keep walking, though.
So I walk down this hallway knowing that orange is my favorite color.
I'm so full on this hallway. It has got me feeling like I am going to burst. Like I too could be the universe. Like each of my inhalations could be creating another universe inside of my lungs that some beings experience as a lifetime, as multiple generations, as millennia.
And then I exhale and feel the death of a world.