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He did not remember the exact moment when he stopped thinking big. Big as in big context. Big as in changing other's lives before changing his own. It must have been roughly 10 years now since the world around him, or at least the world as he saw it, began to shrink. Getting rid of television was a good step, the paper was the next, then music, mail, electricity, water, air... no he still needed air... but barely. He barely moved.
Most of his universe was now confined to the few cubic inches of his still active brain. He was working on making its activity more of a relaxed one. More relaxed every day. Slower, slower, slower. He hoped to maybe one day turn his world into a single tiny point, a pinpoint, a one single photon size loop hole through which he could crawl to the other side of the universe, explode in new and unspoiled fresh ideas. He was preparing for that. Just that.
Any day now, any hour now, any minute now... he would somehow manage to stop even the tiniest thought in its tracks. Stop his lungs from wanting to pump air, stop his heart from beating. It was a tiny, tiny spot through which he had to squeeze himself. It would be worth it. Certainly...

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This page contains a single entry by Witold published on August 18, 2003 12:08 AM.

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