I feel like I’m in two different places—standing on the porch, overlooking the yard. I’m overlooking the porch and looking at the sky and the sun, bright with multicolors, spreading across the land.

I flip the view, and I’m in the backyard of my home, looking at the tree and the birds in the sky and listening to the mowers down the road.

It’s like a flip of a switch, and I can go back between one or the other—the future and the past—intermingled as one.
There is no time.