That word - ‘identity’ - feels distasteful in your mouth. Your surroundings fade into insignificance as your consider the possibility of losing yourself in your search. It is a metaphor, presumably, to lose oneself in something, yet here it seems very literal. You feel as though you could become something or someone else, have your sense of self translated into some other being or object.

The walls between things feel soft and malleable. When you refocus, your surroundings are gone. For a moment you feel a comfortable, veiny darkness around you. It feels as if you are in utero, ready to be born somewhere else. For a moment, you feel very close to whatever it is you are searching for.

Then you are ripped back. Your self merges once more with you. Your persona becomes solidified. Your mask fits your face and then they are simply a face. Your surroundings have changed though. Ahead of you is a hut.