Özet

You are fast asleep. You are drifting through the darkness: a seemingly endless abyss from which there is no escape. There is nothing but the darkness: leagues and fathoms and feet of it... But you were a person once, you know, before you found yourself in this sorry state. You had a name — perhaps you had several names — and thoughts of your own; feelings, too. You had friends. A family, perhaps. You had a life. You might have had many lives. You are one, yet you are many. Fragmented, your past dances behind your eyelids like shards of glass: sharp to the touch, and yet... Will you reach out to touch these broken bits and pieces of your past? Do you dare?