The whole world around me was ready to crumble. Everywhere I looked around me, reality was just barely in balance. Each item I touched, where I walked, the wall I barely brushed by, they all cracked and then crumbled. Like the hand of Midas, except that instead of gold it all turned into dry powdery dust. Even a simple glance caused cracks to appear, the crumbling motion barely starting but not quite starting, a slow motion abruptly halted by a snapshot of what could happen. A carefully directed forefinger and a jab anywhere to the surface recreated the motion abruptly halted, so that the crumbling motion finished off where it began. This is all pretty strange to experience first hand, especially when you realize that you are the reason for the crumbling in the first place. A huge burden of responsibility presses down on the mind. The mind that is the brain that is a collated and convoluted surface of cellular matter causes cracks and fissures of its own device. The surface of everything looked the same except for a form it assumed, just like caked mud which has dried and is already starting to crack and crumble. Crumbling all over the place that will never stop. The cellular matter will not stop. Fissures and cracks and crumbling motions and sound are everywhere and nowhere at the same time.