The day arrived when looking
Became another entity in reality.
Visual verve was everywhere
In a blur of information.
Where had all this been till now?
Why did I just see before and never look?
The number on the bus.
The name of the street.
Baggot Street poured out around me.
As I hurtled by, top deck, of course.
Georgian arches flashed past.
Granite steps. Iron railings, a staccato blur.
A shift in interpretation
A whole new world was out there.
I had moved the inner layer and there it was.
It would never be the same.
Even the scents became clearer
As a perfumed girl tucked in beside me
With a flick of her short blond hair.
The stop arrived and I jumped off
To walk the city stones
Of history and delight.
The same, but oh so not the same.
Everything was brighter then
Had always been so in its own world.
Bewleys green paint. Brighter.
The smell of coffee. Stronger.
What made this happen?
What turned it on?
Me. I did it.
Or something inside my head poked out.
There was no going back
To dullness and drab.
It’s not only the sights and colors.
Even the words vibrated.
Denis Hearn 2018