Monday, December 10, 2007

Everything Is Strange

Everything is strange.
My body is driving this car, motorized velocity takes me across this stretch of highway.
I don’t recognize anything, the shapes register in a part of my brain…I go beneath an underpass, a man is walking along the gated bridge, other cars pass me…red and blue, sometimes silver.
I know what they are, their function…but, what are they?
They are foreign to me, objects from another dimension that is far from my understanding.
The road curves… my hands clutch the wheel and turn to the left, my right foot touches the brake…my body has taken over, the mechanical movements of driving are smooth and known, the habit of checking my blind spot is observed.
Everything is moving forward- the cars, the moment…time. I am inside this body, looking out. Nothing is familiar, my hands are like those of a mannequin, my face is a pile of shapes-contorted and distorted.
I look around with the eyes of a foreigner while everything is strange.

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