# Summary

The text describes a person's introspective journey through a metaphorical dark tunnel, representing an unplanned adventure and a struggle with their own duality.

# Abstract

The narrative unfolds as an individual embarks on an unexpected journey through a tunnel, a place not recommended for planned vacations but fitting for spontaneous adventures where logic is set aside. The protagonist, sensing the dampness and using touch to navigate the labyrinthine darkness, reflects on the dichotomy of their existence. They ponder which part of themselves is real—the writer, the feeler, or the explorer—as they grapple with the sensation of being both in and out of their body. The protagonist observes an apparition of themselves, which has lost its hearing and cannot heed the warnings, leading to a fall and injury. Despite the pain, there's a realization that even in darkness, a part of them lives in the light, and they possess the power to draw the apparition back, maintaining control over their shared existence. The journey ends with the protagonist denying the apparition a chance to find light at the end of the tunnel, ensuring their intertwined lives remain in the shadows.

# Opinions

- The author conveys a sense of skepticism towards meticulous planning, suggesting that the best experiences often come from unplanned spontaneity.
- There is a philosophical contemplation about the nature of self, questioning which aspect of one's being is the most authentic.
- The protagonist feels a detachment from their physical self, as if they are observing their own actions from an external perspective.
- The text reflects a struggle for control between different facets of the protagonist's personality, with one part willingly embracing the darkness and another seeking the light.
- The protagonist exhibits a complex relationship with the apparition, feeling both compassion and a desire to maintain dominance over it.
- The author seems to imply that even in situations that feel devoid of hope or light, there is an inherent resilience and capacity for hope within oneself.

The Tunnel

The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men

Gang aft a-gley — Robert Burns-1786

This tunnel is dark, it isn’t on my list of recommendations — for

vacations in ratiocinations but adventures always have an unplanned

spontaneity about them, where logic procrastinating, is put on the

nightstand,

along with the best laid ad hoc projects.

I feel the dank moisture on my fingertips.

I use my hands to see through this interminable labyrinth I have

dreamed myself into.

I willed myself or rather allowed myself to enter this darkness,

I even dressed the part to ward off the chill seeping into the skin of my

bones.

It’s as though I’m in a trance, transporting myself out of body, lending

my thoughts to the apparition a part of me has become.

Which part of me is real, the one writing this, the one feeling the

panic emanating in the corridors of this blankness,

Or the one maneuvering through the dark veins that wind endlessly

through the deep dark web I’ve woven?

I question, yet I worry more about who will respond, me who pulls the

strings, or she who has given the thread to some imaginary hero?

I observe myself or rather that half of a part of me as she feels along the

labyrinth walls, placing one foot gingerly before the other.

I see a nothingness through her vision, yet I see everything — is that

god?

The apparition on the other hand has lost her sense of hearing and

cannot hear the warning echoes I send out to her.

She stops short as though she’s sensed my elocutions, just before she

stumbles loosing her footing.

She’s falling, rolling on the ground scraping her knees and hands,

picking up speed as pesky vermin scurry across and out of her path.

I feel compassion for her as her agile body crashes with a reverberating

crescendo against the exit to this godless subterranean cavern — it

wasn’t god after all.

She cannot hear the sound of her breath being knocked out of her body,

so she cannot feel. But I do… I feel the impact and tend to our wounds.

I will her to turn back, to us, or me, or my part of the whole.

She shoos me away, she wants to do her part and conquer the labyrinth

alone.

She is not being cooperative.

When did this begin, since when has she thought for herself, thought of

not returning?

Annoyed, I nervously exclaim, waving my hand flippantly,

“Stay there then, it’s of no matter”, I fib, knowing I have caused this

situation, knowing I’ve willed my lives to share this darkness.

But… even as the darkness in my life becomes overcast, a part of me will

always live in the light.

I draw her back, just as she finds a clue — a paper lantern at the end of

the tunnel.

We can’t have that, she needs me, I must keep her in the dark.