I Am the Observer
I feel like an alien probe in this world, wandering through it, peering into windows, gazing into the distance. Sometimes, I even see myself from afar—watching as I look through the glass. It is not a process; it is a state.
When I am busy, I am not truly here. Some autopilot takes over, driving my body. Most of life is spent in this busy loop, another major part in sleep, and only a fraction of it in presence—those rare moments when I become aware of my existence. And when I am present, all I can do is watch.
The world changes when I observe it. It begins to shift, like a metamorphosis. It’s like staring at a pattern for too long—at first stable, then suddenly alive, moving like a hallucination. How can people trust their eyes after that? Such precise instruments, yet so easily deceived. The change is not in visual distortions but in perception itself, like a camera lens constantly adjusting focus—one thing sharpens, another fades, and a new image emerges. The same view, but different pictures.
And it feels different too. Objects begin to speak - not literally, I’m not crazy yet - but they seem to tell their own stories, as if they have personalities, identities.
It’s amusing - if you can name a chair and feel something toward it as you would toward a person, does that mean people can be seen as objects too? Sometimes, you look at someone and think, He’s just like a big couch in the living room or She reminds me of a floor lamp.
Objects, objects, objects. There is nobody here except me and all these objects. Some have hair on their heads and mumble at me, but they are still objects. And the light - light performs real magic, revealing these strange forms from the darkness. Watching them is satisfying. Colors, shapes, movement.
There are different ways to look. You can focus on a single object, isolating it - this is it, this is the thing I am looking at. Or you can unfocus, letting everything merge into a single whole, a vast, interconnected form. This way of seeing is unfamiliar, requiring effort, practice. And then there is another way - where you do not look at all. Your eyes remain open, but the world dissolves into shifting colors and shapes. Each way of looking reveals something different.