We marveled at the green trees against the canvas of the storm. How they had shed their original color and become something altogether more vibrant and violent, whipping back and forth in the sky like so many things we could imagine. We realized the many metaphors and metonyms that happened in our minds were crafting the world that we saw, and how in that way we became abstracted even from ourselves because our language was imperfect for our perception. We became entirely less certain of our selves even as we were rooted on the same earth as the vision we beheld. In that moment the trees and wind seemed more us than us.
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Author Mark Miller 