We had an 2-day exercise which involved setting up a defence position in forested area somewhere in Marsiling. The thick jungle vegetation consisted mainly of large fruit trees like durian, jackfruit and rambutan trees, and we were tasked to dig shellscrapes or trenches in the ground in which we would sleep in. Very much like sleeping in a shallow grave, I suppose.
I lay in this damp hole in the soil, slipping in and out of consciousness as I struggled to sleep, the strange intoxicating stench of rotting fruit, the sounds of metallic rifle magazines clicking in the dark, and the texture of crisp leaf litter and moist organic matter brushing against my skin, the depthless freckles of light that streaked through the aged leaves of old trees, completely immersing me in a surreal, deeply tactile environment.
Call them visions, or dreams; these few images vividly surfaced in my mind as I sank further and further into a sub-conscious state of mind, a distorted reflection of the reality around me....
cilia on sticks
pustule-like, glistening like insect eyes
nowhere to shift without touching them
a heaving mass of scales
some brittle and skeletal
some black with age and decay
fibrous husk of tissuelike frozen muscle
deep scars that hide dark secrets
feathery antennae that bristlethat curl and wisp and fray
invade the crevices of your body
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