Light always comes first, as light is the source of most things. Certain flowers turn in the direction of the sun, twisting their leaves and petals in this dirt to face the ball of yellow; light is the source of sight and color, both of which directly affect human emotion which in turn affect performance on various different levels; and it is assumed that when a child is forced from the womb the first thing they see is the light, a terrible contrast to the dark safety of the sack of nutrients and a morbid parallel to the light at the end of an approaching death.
But when Franks mind began to birth itself back into consciousness he did not turn towards the light like a flower rooted into the soil, and he didnt welcome it like a child fresh from the womb. He treated it like the light at the end of the tunnel; high beams of a car steered by a drunk driver. He tried to step out of the way but the light came close, seemed to envelope his whole head. Frank tried to open his mouth