Back, back, back, back. It isn’t a whisper, but the voice is low. Soothing, feminine. Coming from within a continuing, chaotic spiral. Back, back, back; it cajoles me. Where are you? What are you? Don’t you wanna remember? I see no one.
Where am I? Who am I? No, No. I resurface; I am no more sleeping. Lines form themselves on my forehead, the spiral widens and loses its end.
I get up and join it.