I was becoming more and more a boy. I was changing in various ways—some of which I understood, while others remained a mystery to me. Some changes I didn’t notice at all as they happened gradually, only realizing them much later, once they were already complete. All of them seemed independent of my will. I couldn’t stop them.

Perhaps I could have interrupted the entire process, jumped out of the new body, and returned to the old one, but it was impossible to partially step out of oneself, or just for a moment. Sometimes I felt as though I had already transformed completely and irreversibly. Those moments plunged me into despair. But then, I would find within myself some faint shadow or reflection of my true self, and I would focus all my attention on nurturing it so it wouldn’t disappear for as long as I could manage.

It wasn’t just the body that changed; all its senses did too. Most of them dulled, some faded away entirely. I couldn’t see half of what I used to. Scents lost their sharpness. Touch became nothing more than dry information. Only hearing grew sharper. I could hear more clearly and more acutely. I heard whispers, rustles, murmurs, and all their colors.

My mind changed as well. It grew duller. Slower. My thoughts became simpler—heavier and fewer. Often, I preferred not to think at all rather than push these shapeless boulders endlessly to nowhere.