Things are what they are.
Like water from a spring that can run by your side, or under your feet, or right above your head landing with a splash in front of you. I can see it in slow mo, the water arching; and I follow it with my eyes, how the light shines through, the colours in the clear crystal drops, little rainbows darting in all directions! And then this beauty is rushing to the ground, as if rushing to kiss my feet, how delightful, the water that is worshipped and worships you, but once water is abandoned in the force of gravity, the stream of clarity and beauty becomes a thick curtain made of spiky, discoloured thread that beats the ground harder and harder, and the solid ground has to give way or become one with the water. And there I stand still, waiting for the water to kiss my feet, my feet that are drenched, rooted in the ground that's shaking.
And there you are! And I can see the oversized question marks all over your face, and all I can say is that I perceive the world in an over-emphasized way.