Feelings:
It was thick breath.
It was heavy skull.
Actions:
It involved leaving the house, locking the door and walking to the local bus stop, through the mist of golden wattle.
It involved pausing at the melaleuca tree to slowly strip off some papery bark, and feel it crumble beneath dry fingers.
It involved sitting on a bus until it I was removed, in a geographical sense at least, from everything I had ever seen.
Post Script:
I will tell any children I may one day have the following fact: that running away is always the most effective solution.
