As I step through the gap in the railings, the clouds overhead begin to accelerate. Two steps forward, and my point of view soars upwards, over my head and looking down and ahead in fisheye distortion as the shadows lengthen away from me, the park in sudden silence.
Ten paces on and the sky darkens to red as evening approaches, the lens of my perception continuing its semi-circular path over my body. The days continue to shorten, light following dark following light, flickering illumination strobing my movements as I make my way along the path.
I’m near the origin now; I am a real projection of an imaginary viewpoint. From this height, I can see the entire park, the concrete axes quartering it as my body pauses at the crossroads. Zero zero zero zero. Abruptly, time stands still for a moment as my head turns left and right. This is the time of the little death, the time of the man who stopped. But that is another story.
The arrow reverses, the stuttering days rewind at speed as my gaze swoops down, my feet carrying me across and onwards, a change of sign and a change of mood.
A chill wind blows through the trees as I approach the traffic lights. The grass soars up to meet my sight as my vision narrows, turning back to see where the crossing began, my eyes in the back of my head, a fear in the back of my mind. Time slows, the sky turns blue, the clouds brake gently into place once more.
I’m staring back along the axis. My foot touches the pavement, my hand touches the railing, my vision snaps back, the sound of traffic restarts. I am a positive man in a negative world, at least until it is time to return.