Each breath is slower than before, your mind enters a mist, friends surround you but not you, they are distant
You focus, focus once more, your pupils dilate as you stare into your first born daughter, then onto your grandson, they seem almost frozen, their mouths move to talk yet it’s incomprehensible
Their lips slap together at an excruciatingly slow pace, then as a final pang of pain enters around your chest, you feel your time stop
The mist encroaches further.
being so acoustic about languages you make a book that is a global hit