I looked up from my book, and I saw a magpie being attacked by a smaller bird in figure-eights, clicking angrily every time it finished the circuit. Over on the path by the river, a lady rode her bicycle on the spot. Two people that had been talking in the distance were now simultaneously reclining in mid-air and standing up, vibrating between these two positions with an unsettling sterility. The blades of grass beyond the bench became spears of glass, and the wind seemed to dry. The sun and the clouds must've been laughing, and when I gazed back at my book all the letters were forming a strange dark area in the corners of the pages. I started to become very heavy, and I began to fall into the ground, making a wormhole in the earth.