Nothing can compare and it can ruin you. The color of the ordinary places. The light. The textures. It’s like everything in the normal environment is enhanced by a magnitude. (I am not sure what magnitude). You want life to be like that. How could you not? It’s beautiful. Your life is beautiful. The things around you are beautiful. They are still the things around you. The things around you right now. But they have a depth and brilliance, and a vividness that is lost to the normal. Dulled to the normal waking senses. All is dull afterward. All is flat and two dimensional. All is lifeless and banal. But you know there is more. Right under your nose. You know what is there. You saw it. You know. But you can’t access it. Not in the ordinary. And the sensations are fleeting. They can’t be sustained. So we come back to the dull. To the lifeless existence of the ordinary. The light is not what it can be. The texture is not what it can be. Maybe for good reasons. I don’t know. Maybe in death the vibrance becomes the norm. I don’t know.