That the body, thrown, hath solidity, extension, resistance, measure, motion, color; hurtled into the darkness, or set there by the unseen hands of boys, still it hath these qualities; chained in shackles; vizarded with metal; that a body continueth thus to exhibit these qualities in the absence of sense or sensation — this in itself is perhaps not remarkable.

That in the absence of motion, I should lie unmoving and become unaware of floor and wall, sky and earth, and all the forces that bind; that after a time, even the sensation of the iron bit projecting into the mouth, biting the palate with every motion to gag — that even this sensation should vanish — this is of interest to those who treat not simply of pain and punishment, but of perception and essence themselves; for the mask itself came, after a time, to seem an extension of the flesh; the space between the lips occupied by the bit no more foreign in its intrusion than lip touched to lip, or wrist to wrist, or floor to belly, once the mouthpiece had warmed and the sour tang of metal had suffused the mouth, pacifying the clamor of the tongue. There was no position in reference to matter or objects; not the recognition of surfaces; the senses themselves collapsed and abrogated their wonted distinctions; and the body was left aware but bereft. In this way, matter’s division ceased, and, as the ancients professed, substance was returned to its originary unity.

At long last, you may no longer distinguish what binds you from what is you.