It is dark and absolutely still, without a breath of sound or whisper of air. The absence of sound has a thick cottony feeling. The light is soft and dim without a specific point of origin, just softly radiant. A fog or haze disperses the light. I look down and the dirt is dark and rich, smelling brown and loamy. The wet grass smells bright, sharp, and citrus. Somehow, I know that I am inside someplace, although I can't see walls. It feels close like a cave. Perhaps its the darkness at the edge of the fading light that creates the sensation.
A finality hangs about the place. Nothing is happening because it all has already happened. Nothing will ever happen again. The air will not move, the light will not change. This place is eternal. I don't feel fear, it is what it is. In fact, I'm not sure if I am even here. At least, not in body. My consciousness is present somehow but not me.
Now I step out of my head and wonder why this is the place that came to mind in the exercise. It is not a memory or an experience. Why would I see this? Suddenly, I just know. This place has been hanging around the edges of my mind and I spend all day avoiding it. In fact, I fill the days with things to plan and do in order to avoid this place. But it is there, just before I drop off to sleep. It is definitely present when I first wake. That is when I feel it the hardest, before my defenses can come up. The death of Kazimierz two days ago brought it back. Brought back this place that came to me with each death, my great-grandmother, grandmothers, father. Most of all my father. This place is death, and each day I try to hold it at bay. It waits for me, this quiet still place.