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I had entered Into a white endless fall of despa

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pinging Preston , slowly walks around the darkened sphere

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Pinging

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Hi

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nothing but deep black  surrounds me, a sphere of darkness which seems endless yet it consist straight of a length of only centimetres.

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Hollow

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Silent as a jaguar hunting

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Very white

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As white as

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Circular

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Whiteness. Everywhere, my mind was blank, I didn’t know where I was, how I got there Ora even why I was there, but I was. My name is Brad.

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A celuloid sphere encases emptiness. Hollow and thin, the smashes of ping pong paddles embrace the silence and engulfed it. Shadows danced, twirled, and shifted over these clouded windows

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The inside of a ping pong ball was made out of a hollow celluloid sphere; a small echo compared to the noises of the outside world. When smacked by the ping pong paddle the reverberations are silent to the human ear; only heard when it is hit hard enough to win the game. The inside of a ping pong ball, is something that is bleak, empty and trough-like.

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H

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A ball of eery despair with nothing but pitch dark

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White

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Nothing, just white, the empty hollow inside of a ping pong ball felt like it slowly bored down its empty white gaze into your soul. Eerie and empty, yet light shone through the thin surface blinding the inside showing small flecks of dust float around. Vibrations rock the inside as the tiny ball smacks against the bats

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the ping pong ball, so small and simple.

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The plain white void of the ping pong ball, concealed behind a wall of plastic. Trapped.

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The pale interior of the ball surrounded me. It covered me entirely. The ping of the ball against the bat, echoed all around the insides.

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Hi

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The inside of a ping pong ball is empty, shown by a deafening silence. The plastic scent given off by the never ending walls is enough to send anyone in to insanity.

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it was white, the echoes of screaming pulsated through the ball and bouncing round the inside, a bat round a cave. The taste, musty and stale accompanying the feeling of loneliness

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it was white, the echoes of screaming pulsated through the ball and bouncing round the inside, a bat round a cave. The taste, musty and stale accompanying the feeling of loneliness

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The silence echoed. Inside was empty and as white as can be. The spherical shape created a claustrophobic atmosphere, compacting in.

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The spherical, white surface with nothing but dust. A plain of zero. As hollow as a dead branch. Light as a feather.