That when I look around, I’m not actually sure about what I see.
What’s really real? What’s just perception? Could it be that
everything that I’m looking is really teal-colored, but the way my
brain interprets things causes me to see things in technicolor?
What’s a texture?
It’s raining outside. A lot. Contemplating reality is a farce.
Whatever is, is. There’s not such thing as a ‘false’ reality. Or
*is* there…?
Yes, and then I sat down at the table, looked around, eyeballed the salt, and instead chose to pick up the napkin. I proceeded to fold it in that fancy way that restaurants love to do, making a little pyramid, or a teepee, a home where my little indian friend could live. I placed it on my plate carefully, and looked across the table at my girlfriend, who stared at me with curiosity.
“What are you doing, exactly, there, Michael?” she asked.
“I’m not exactly sure, but right now it looks like I’m making a little home for a very small Native American. Or an Egyptian. Not sure yet.” I replied.
“Well, you let me know when you find out for sure, okay? We’ll put a tiny ‘for rent’ sign next to it and post it in all the newspapers.”
Sarcasm is a wonderful thing – it makes me smile. So I smiled at her. And considered muttering something about “jack’s sick sense of…” but thought better of it. Instead, I just smiled. And kept on smiling. Until I got bored of smiling, and returned to my architectural masterpiece, the lost, last pyramid of Koperwasia. I thought about what the advert would say: “Efficiency, kitchenette, great view of the bay. Must like campfires, bows and arrows, and feathers.” Maybe not. I straightened out the napkin and returned it to my lap.
“So do you want to take a walk?” I asked her.
“Yeah, but we have to pay our bill first.”
“Screw it. They’re commies anyway. And they don’t know how to make a latte.” I said, getting up from my chair and grabbing her hand.
We ran.
