My unease mostly comes from the horrid assumption that my right eye fails to see what the corner of it does. That is, when I turn my head I see the ordinary, a simple object, an inanimate figure, but just before that I know what the corner caught and registered – an entirely new image of motions and attempts of greater such, unlikely to the nature of its original character as seen by my full eye. Oh, no I am not mad; I am simply worried that I might be going so.
Today the corner of my eye filtered a different abnormality as the by-street disappeared from my peripheral vision and their substitute rose with tall black rocks that were the foundation of a palace of sorts, but which was in a monotonous decay, crumbling into a blacker mass of liquid denser than water and infested with golden sinking monuments of befallen, ungodly creatures of proportions unknown and terrible to me. The motion of this transcendental spectacle was falling in rhythm with my own motion in the known to me world and I genuinely feared I might find myself prisoner to this abandoned city and far-off world exciting in the corner of my eye.
My eyeball twitched inside its socket, the forgotten palace becoming blurred as tears formatted in the corner of my right eye and dripped down my cheek. A blink and the vision was gone forever, leaving me a stranger to my own world and a permanent mental inhabitant in that other, the kingdom of crumble and decay.