"I know I'm falling and will soon slam into the bottom. I feel it, rushing up at me." But he can only live with this fear for so long before he recognizes: "I won't even know when I finally do hit. I'll be dead before I can realize anything's happened. So there is no bottom. It does not exist for me. Only my end exists." And then in a whisper: "Maybe that is the something here. The only thing here. My end."

Navidson records his sobs and groans. He even captures moments of faint amusement when he jokingly announces: "It's not fair in a way. I've been falling down so long it feels like floating up to me —" Soon though he grows less concerned about where he is and becomes more consumed by who he once was.

Unlike Floyd Collins Navidson does not rave about angels in chariots or chicken sandwiches. Nor does he offer us his C.V. like HoIIowmv Instead as urea nours into his veins and delirium sets in, Navidson begins rambling on about people he has known and fove?:^om— Torn . Tom^s this where you went? Don't look down, eh?"-Delial, his children and more and more frequently

Karen—"I've you. I've lost you."