Colors
A bird flying through a room. That's what life is like. Nothing, darkness, cold, the void. Then, suddenly, there's light and warmth and music. Then it's gone again, and don't really know what you felt. You don't know exactly what it was, and the memory is fading, but you want to get back.
Colors. That's all there is now. You are suspended in darkness with only memories of color to tell you that something used to be different.
Too bad you don't know what they're called. You know they're colors, but you don't know what the different ones are called.
You can't really see them, you also don't really have a perception of what 'seeing' is. The only word you really have any sense of is 'color', and even that's vague. Just a sense of brightness that you don't really see in any sense.
You want to go back to where there's color. If you remember it, it has to exist.
Doesn't it?
You can't be unsure, you don't know that word. Or any word, for that matter. There's only color. Everything that crosses you seems to be translated to color. That would be very little. Occasionally there is a feeling that isn't quite yours, and you don't have a word for it. It doesn't feel good, as would've been translated had you had such a vocabulary. Or a vocabulary at all, for that matter.
You get a sensation of dark, light, and something in between. Something warmer than either of those. There was a lot of dark, more than light or the warm. There is something smug about it though, like who ever had it first was satisfied by what they had done. Not only satisfied, but immensely pleased as well.
Then there's a feeling that's only slightly less warm than the cooler colors. Something… sour. There's more light in this one, but it doesn't feel any better than the last. It's also less smug, though. Less happy and more upset.
There was more warmth to this one too. A softer warmth, but there was something awful about it.
Damp. Cold. Warm. Slippery. Metallic. Light. Dark.
Then it was void again.
That's all there was left, wasn't there?
