Transparent Walls and Fluid Paintings

Cold, dry air rushed into his lungs as he took a deep breath. It surprised him that the boreal air hadn’t frozen his lungs. The tips of his fingers were just as cold as the air he was breathing. As he progressed he looked at his surroundings, viewing walls that weren’t walls, and paintings that weren’t still. However spacious his surroundings appeared, he couldn’t help but feel confined. His feet felt not like his own. His arms swung at his sides. Whether they were swinging helplessly, he could not decide. Unlike his legs, his arms felt perfectly normal. Yet, he could not get himself to want to attempt moving them, no matter how hard he tried. Eventual adaptation to all which once was new to him, finally freed him to pondering his situation. Obviously he had been walking in the same direction ever since he started down the path. He tried to look back, but couldn’t get his neck to turn. The adaptation he had undertaken had slowed his reaction to the unnatural, and he thought "I guess there's no…" Just then, a twitch crawled up his spine and bit his brain with a loud crunch, only audible to his senses, "Turning back?" A boiling mass of emotion exploded through his stomach and burst past his neck. The sudden shock was overwhelming but nonetheless, he looked around and peered at the ground and into the distance. Shocked that there wasn’t any sand of any kind in sight, he almost over looked the fact there also was no ground but that which was under his feet.