Surreal--The Real Beneath Us All

I saw my life today. At the San Antonio Public Library. A vivid structure that Evan calls "enchilada red." The same color as the eight alarm chili I made with Adam's New Mexico chili powder. Well, the recipe did call for 1/3 cup of chili powder. My sinuses are good and cleared up.

A dance of colored glass begins at the first floor of the library and spirals upward to the ceiling. Over seven hundred pieces of handblown glass interwoven to create a carnival of fragility.

It was on the fifth floor that I saw them. I was loading up my arms with books on the Roaring Twenties and Romeo and Juliet when I saw the couple. Pudgy, he in an over-sized Hawaiian button-up shirt, she with glasses slipping down the end of her nose. She was holding up a Magic Eye book, and he was peering at an image. One of those cacophonies of merging color that supposedly holds a shape within its seeming horizon of pattern.

He was gazing down at it, his sandled feet placed firmly on the carpet as his forehead strained with intensity. I moved on past the couple as I muttered the call numbers of the next book on my list.

I have never been able to see the hidden picture. But show me the twisted glass, and I will hide my mind inside it. Lean my cheek against the cool glass. Let my spirit dance among the vibrant red and orange.

Don't ask me to look harder. I can't see the picture. I can't. I can't. Color spiraling upward.....up and up.