Coordination is more difficult than he imagined it should be: arm is here, leg there; ten fingers, two eyes, one tongue; an extra bit of blood and flesh and bone to reconfigure just where he is unaccustomed to such solidity. Now he must think again in terms of the beating heart and the cyclic breath; those simple elements of life which he has forgotten, being dead.
He experiments: pulls himself up with unsteady arms onto tottering legs; takes an infant's first step and falls just as quickly. Tries again; falls, again; repeats, again, again...
It was easier, he thinks, dying.