Tripping acid did not feel to me like what I was warned about. I was told there would be patterns, pink elephants, feelings of love turning purple and glowing through my fingers and toes. For me, tripping was a twist. Tripping was a sudden flake of time falling in and out of order with the other time flakes, their flutter makes me incompetent with my feet squishing the moss and mud. Subtle swaying movements from the world behind me wave through the water-mirror but the water, suddenly, will become the world behind me and the windy trees in front. I am twisted around? Confusion and more fractured, overlapped layers of time thipping like broken records and framing like badly cut movie clips, sunglasses keep the shots in smooth continuity.