He lay down on the beach floor, exhausted from walking and chasing after things that seemed to lead nowhere. He thought that maybe if he just stayed put, the fold would change again, and he'd find himself somewhere else. The atmosphere was lovely, and the view was peaceful, with the sound of waves gently lapping at the shore.
As he lay on his back, observing the sky, he felt a rare sense of quiet and stillness. For the first time in as long as he could remember, nothing seemed to be happening. He felt the flow of time passing but decided to ignore it, no matter how long it seemed.
As his hands grasped the sand, he remembered something - he was on the beach with someone, but he couldn't recall when or how. He tried to play the scene in his head, and he could see the person, who seemed female. But as he reached out to the imagination, he snapped back to reality, and his body reacted violently. He started vomiting, his body feeling the distortions acutely.
It finally dawned on him that he was experiencing hunger, a sensation he hadn't felt before. He realized that he hadn't eaten anything since he found himself here, and the concept of hunger and eating suddenly became clear to him. He looked around and saw a conveniently placed coconut tree a little bit behind him. He gazed at it with suspicion, his mind racing with thoughts of survival and distrust.
He lay back down, his instincts warning him away from the coconut tree. The feeling of hunger seemed to dissipate, and his mind began to focus on a nagging thought. Something was ringing in his head, an idea trying to take shape. He attempted to grasp it, but it slipped away, just out of reach.
As he lay there, he felt an overwhelming urge to capture the thought, to pin it down and examine it. He sat up and started writing in the sand, his fingers moving rapidly as he tried to keep pace with his racing mind. The grains of sand shifted beneath his touch, and he scribbled down fragments of the idea, hoping that somehow, someway, it would lead him to a conclusion.
His entire focus was on the mental image, the symbols and concepts swirling in his head. He wrote down "Different Time" in bold letters, and then added a plus sign, but his mind was blank when it came to what came next. He stared at the incomplete equation, willing the answer to reveal itself to him.
But before he could complete the thought, it vanished, leaving him staring at the incomplete equation in the sand: "Different Time +". He knew he'd been on the verge of something, but it had slipped away, leaving him with more questions than answers. Frustration welled up inside him, and he slumped back onto the sand, his mind racing with the possibilities. What was he trying to figure out? And why was it so elusive?
He pondered the strange phenomenon of his thoughts slipping away, wondering if the fold was somehow influencing his mind. Was it listening to his thoughts, manipulating his memories? The timing of these forgotten ideas seemed suspicious, always occurring when he was onto something potentially significant.
The phrase "Different Time +" lingered in his mind, and he was determined not to forget it. He stood up, scanning the beach for a suitable tool, and spotted a twig. He picked it up, walked back to a suitable spot, and began to whittle it into a sharper point.
With a deep breath, he started carving the words into his arm, the pain intense as the twig scraped against his skin. But he didn't flinch, driven by a determination to hold onto this fragment of thought. The physical pain was a small price to pay for the potential insight.
As he finished carving the words "Different Time +" into his skin, he felt a sense of grim satisfaction. The scar would serve as a reminder, a tangible connection to the thoughts that threatened to slip away. He gazed at the crude letters, his mind made up. From now on, he would focus solely on escape, no matter the cost. No more distractions, no more tangents. He would find a way out of this place, even if it killed him. The scar on his arm seemed to pulse with a newfound sense of purpose.
For now, he had spent a long time in this particular fold, immeasurable but he had spent that time conjuring up any ideas that might be useful to him. He had dug several holes in the beach with his arms, pushed the sand into the water hoping for something to break the scene. He started walking the shoreline, endless it was but he didn't seem to be walking in a loop it was just the length of the beach, as he kept walking he saw a small creature scurrying across the sand. It had a shell, a delicate spiral shape adorned with intricate patterns. The creature's body was soft and vulnerable, protected only by its hard shell. He quickly grabbed it, and with a swift motion, smashed the shell against a rock, shattering it into a sharp, jagged piece.
He grasped the makeshift blade, feeling its weight and balance in his hand. The sharp edge seemed to gleam in the sunlight, and he felt a sense of determination wash over him. With the blade in hand, he felt ready to face whatever lay ahead. He turned his back on the beach and walked straight towards the thick trees that loomed behind it, their dense foliage seeming to swallow the sunlight whole. The trees towered above him, their trunks thick and gnarled, their branches tangled in a canopy of leaves. He plunged into the darkness, the sound of the waves fading into the distance as he ventured into the unknown.