…what was there was Michigan Avenue, which had been there in the first place, and which I had seen hundreds and hundreds of times, only I had not seen it like I was seeing it now. The sky was blue, as it often was, only this time it was not only blue, but it was thick. It had a texture. If I could have reached up and taken a piece of sky between my thumb and finger, I could have felt it. The buildings were stone, and brown, and bluish gray, and tall like always, only I felt they were somehow curving, huddling together, and arching out over the street. And the cars! The cars were all these amazing colors, moving along like big beetles, metallic and rounded, and shiny. I could see the air too. It was all amazing. Something had happened to my eyes, or my brain, while I was away inside the painting. By the time I had gotten back inside myself, all my seeing settings had been changed…