Orange Haze

When are we allowed to turn away from the screens?

At which point do we forget to analyze a real thing, something with depth, with clarity, without HIGH DEFINITION, without 1080P RESOLUTION, without a Low-Glare-Back-Lit-Glazed Display? Can we still interpret on our own? How much of us is slush? How often are we allowed to crane our heads skyward again, to tilt our throats upward to the clouds and the sun, to breathe in an atmosphere and suck up and experience, drink it down, not be afraid to let it dribble down our chin with enjoyment?

I have forgotten, beneath an orange haze that knows no dawn, how to find the inky depths beyond the Milky Way. I have forgotten to not be afraid of the utter silence of nature. I only have ears for the holler of traffic, the yammer of the air conditioner. The bellowing belch of grainy-asphalt-black-rubber-dust is what fills my mouth and nose now. I am rendered blind, deaf and brainless.

Perception is an assumption made possible by self-imposed lenses, personally specific filters. How turned on are you by what you see?

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