Here

I went outside this morning and it was so bright I could barely stand it at first, but the warmth felt good against my face and so I sat there for a few minutes. I noticed the butterfly bush, most of its leaves gone, basically a bare bones bush now, but it had a clarity, a sharpness to it that was strange. I looked at it longer, thinking it must be my eyes adjusting to the light, but everything was extraordinarily bright.

I gazed at the bush to see if it would change, but it did not. Its sharpness even seemed to intensify some. I tried to think if this could be a sign of something wrong with my body. What was it van Gogh saw that he put in his paintings? This didn't seem distorted though, only so incredibly crisp that it reminded me of my photo shop program when I over used the sharpness button.

That was it! Only how could this be in real life? I sat there for longer than I intended to, eventually losing my train of thought about the way things looked. I lost myself in it all, became detached in a way that seem to make me more a part of everything. It was as if the me who is here crumbled into the Here until there was only Here.

I don't really know when it ended. I don't really even remember coming inside. I only remember the clarity, the sharpness, the light. I had almost forgotten it happened until a few moments ago.