They say everybody has something special about them. Like a super power. Well, okay, not like a super power. I guess you don’t hear much about people who can lift cars and fly. Except in the comic books, I mean.
No. I mean something like a talent.
Some people can, you know, do music. Or art. Yeah. They can draw exactly what they can see. I wish I had music. Or art.
My specialty doesn’t have a name. At least I don’t think it does. I’ve never heard anybody else talk about that little thing I can do.
I can see air.
Hmm. That doesn’t sound very special, now that I write it out.
I told my father, once, that I could see air, and he just chuckled. Maybe he thought I was talking about smoke or smog. I wasn’t, though. I really can see air.
For me there is no such thing as empty space. My eyes won’t allow it. Take away every bit of light, and I can see the dark, too.
Did you know that air, light and dark, is full of patterns? Have you ever seen the chaos that swarms in any uncluttered space? The movement is there, even in and over a Paisley print, it’s just that when you focus on the pattern, you lose the ability to see the movement.
It’s maddening, really. There is no place I can look without seeing the dance of the air. And in the dark, too. I see it with my eyes closed, by the way. So I don’t think even true blindness would stop the effect.
The best I can do to get involved in something that uses my eyes critically, and while immersed will forget, for a little while.