Upside-Down
Turn it around.
Squint and twist your neck.

How strange a perspective my world takes. It is seldom that anyone should dare, even subtly, hint that they look through the same strange lens of reality. That would be a call into outer space I dare not make myself, for fear I should obtain an answer. Any answer. Alien lifeform-type or lost-human in space, I should cover my ears in mufflers in case someone dares to understand me. Instead, I would much rather sit here, or lie in the street, not caring, nor daring to care, what the passerbys think of me as I live my reality through warped, tinted balloon-colors glasses. I like my world pretty. If I squint, I can cut out the view from the corner of my eyes and focus on the shapes I see through my balloon glasses. I pretend the white sticks are stalks of plants and the burst of translucent color taints my world with a desperately needed coat of paint. I'm grateful, but soon it will be time to go home. I grab a couple of lifesavers on the way home, the rainbow combination ready in my morose bag, just in case I need to revive a little color. London's grey rain falls as I tread muddy puddles but I'm obscured from the bleakness by the colored lenses of my optic plexus.

Rainbow