I sat on a bus today.
The top floor of a double decker. I haven’t been up there for a while. It made me think about perspective. Like all the different levels of height you’d have to be at to get a truely different view of things. I then considered if all those different height layers were visible blocks of colour, that could be seen. The bottom layers started transparent, then were pale blue, blue, deep blue, violet, purple, deep red, red, orange, yellow, pale green, green, deep green, brown and then finally black. Which was fitting, because by that height/perspective I figured I’d be in space, and space is black (or at least mostly and absense of light, which would just give the appearance of black).
Back up on the bus, I was looking down on a lot of things and even tho things looked different, they looked right, as I knew they were real. And I wondered if there was a viewpoint I could be at, whereby things wouldn’t look right. I imagined being able to look at a house from underneath, and tho it felt ‘right’ in my mind I think that was because I already knew it was a house to start with. If a house suddenly appeared above my head one day, I have a feeling it wouldn’t be that obvious. I’d just be in its foundation shadow, hovering up there like a concrete cloud.
Once you start thinking with this perspective on an object, you have to inject a little reality into it, otherwise things start to get a bit weird. So I imagined a few other things above my head too, like a dog walking past and someone cycling, zebra crossings appear like bridges across roads and plants and trees wouldn’t look anywhere near as interesting, as I’d only see a mass of roots etc.
I’ve decided riding on the top deck of a bus, can be a bit like taking drugs.