The 5 O clock sun hit me with the abruptness of a bird flying into a window.
I squint in irritation and turn to look at my laptop screen.
I stare blankly at it for a while when my vision suddenly adjusts to the reflection of my chest on the screen.
I look intently.

The image of my chequered chest rising and falling, very slowly, burns into my head.
Isn’t this why we do everything we do?

To lie down on a warm bed of wet mud and take a lung full of fresh air before we fall into a deep slumber?