The moments we remember best are the ones we never expected. We stumble into them like a blindfolded child whose friends have taken away the pinata and left them swinging a cardboard tube alone in a room full of cold chairs.
Sometimes when such a memorable moment arises, we scarcely know what to with ourselves aside from standing and staring at That Which Really Shouldn't Be Able To Exist Like That And Yet There It Is. At least, that's what I found myself doing when I encountered my first impossibility.
Everyone says it gets easier after your first trip to the Otherside and to that dimly neon hued, non-Euclidean, M. C. Escher monstrosity of a citadel that greets you, looming up out of pulsating, thrumming chasm of liquid chaos that somehow spawns the Otherside anew each and every day.
Most people don't really remember their first trip, something within the brain shuts down just long enough to obscure those initial moments. It gives you enough time to adjust to the unnatural order of life there and the way that the buildings around you seem to somehow lean in every direction but the one you are heading towards.
Few people remember their first day in its entirety, let alone being conscious enough to recall the people they met there. I only remember that they were trying their hardest to be human and that their disguises were all hideously uncanny.
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