Angst sees a way out but it’s not one to be desired; a bleeding white light at the end of the tunnel. He pushes himself toward it, gasping for the air as he does so. “ This is it This time This time it’s it” ,rambles his wee head. Alisdair had told him before of these big mouths in the streets, but he had never believed such fancies until sure enough he fell in face first. Now he can see the end, he can see the key, and he can see the truth: that there was somewhere elsewhere. Somewhere you have to find but can never just pay a visit. 

He is not in the middle of some inter dimensional drift (although for logics sake you could believe so if it pleased you), he is as here as the words that here appear. It’s something else thats went elsewhere- his mind. You could be quick to label this a condition of his, or you could just as easily label him a condition of this “ drift”  if you like. Either way, he’s in his own little world I guess you’d say- well almost there.   

But as he pushes on through chocking, and growing weaker with exhaustion as he stares out into the white light, with the sweet hope and heat it promises, he thinks to himself just how much easier it would be to die again.