With the power of will I’m able to see the breathings of the earth. Maybe it’s just my eyes doing dubious tricks while pulling off-beat strings in my youth-dementia infested brain; but unless some alien probe or a mad scientist proofs me otherwise; I feel it is as truth. It’s like a useless super power, only there to make sure I will never intend to do harm against the ground that we walk and sleep on.
It is like magic mushrooms without the mushrooms; the whole floor, whether it’s stones, dirt, sand, grass or bedsheets will move like a sleeping belly of a animatronic Santa Claus. Some parts go up while others go down, like water waves that shouldn’t be really viewable and yet I see and feel them. When laying down on such an occurrence, I truly am moved by the movement; the world is a gigantic waterbed that inhales and exhales, full of life and we owe our own to it.