There I was: frozen in place, as if rooted by an irresistible desire to be exactly the same as I was right then for all of eternity, even while paradoxically knowing it to be an impossibility. Of course, it was the knowledge of the impossibility of the desire that made it all the more tantalizing, as we often want most precisely what it is impossible for us to possess.

My mind languidly flicked through plausible future templates for situational crystallization based on the vague residues of those experienced in my distant past, which in that moment of icy reverie seemed not to have not passed far away at all, but to the contrary seemed immeasurably close to me.

At the same time, the feeling of closeness seemed to hinge only on the potency of my affections for said memories: physical proximity having no bearing on this subjective experience of nearness. Why then did I remain, bundle-armored by complacency and lazy animal acceptance of my consignment to the obscure mediocrity of possibly perishing within that frozen fortress while my cold hands ringed with semiprecious gems still gripped the golden armrests of that icy throne?