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plancher.

Is it strange that we all experience the landscape from the same mild and unquestioned range? With rare exceptions the human perspective hovers somewhat shy of a meter above the ground. Is this strange?

I think it’s strange. The whole of our history has been writ from this suspended vantage, in varying degrees–I write from it; you, I presume, are reading with your head an accustomed distanced from the ground. Isn’t this strange?

Circumstances force this wondering. I have injured my foot, and find it easier to slide snakelike across the floor than attempt the graceless hop from room to room.

I would be lying if I said I did not find it delightful. It has been decades since I’ve felt or been so small, and I love how magisterial and grand the merest rooms appear: how towering the tables and chairs, how distant the ceiling, how angled, oddly, the walls.

The world looks different looked up to, and I love how relaxing its innocent vastness feels.