The lone vector stretches in your mind's eye into the wild pale yonder. For an unimaginable distance, forgetting, forgetting... Until you can no longer remember anything - no cities, no mountains, no oceans. And finally - no vector. Nothing remains. A blank space with no point of reference, where only one type of motion is possible. The motion of a human throat, swallowing. And then it comes to you: to reach the end of the Motorway South is to be *unborn*. You've had this thought before while aimlessly wandering the streets of Jamrock. A lost piece of the man you were. A dark hope.🏁

The lone vector stretches in your mind's eye into the wild pale yonder. For an unimaginable distance, forgetting, forgetting... Until you can no longer remember anything - no cities, no mountains, no oceans. And finally - no vector. Nothing remains. A blank space with no point of reference, where only one type of motion is possible. The motion of a human throat, swallowing. And then it comes to you: to reach the end of the Motorway South is to be *unborn*. You've had this thought before while aimlessly wandering the streets of Jamrock. A lost piece of the man you were. A dark hope.🏁