This world is strange. Isn't it? I see strange things everywhere. Strange people doing weird things. But does that make the world weird or does it make me weird?

Have you ever seen something you tried to explain away? I've had the hair on the back of my neck stand up in an abandoned place. Nothing to fear, except the relics of human emotion that oozed from the walls like strawberry jam. A chair sat on the wall, perpendicular to the floor. I knew its legs had been embedded into the crumbling sheet rock. But I felt like I was the one on the wrong plane--walking on the wall while the chair was really on the ground. Had gravity had gone haywire for only me or was this room a doorway to another world?

 No matter what they try and tell you, this world is strange.  But I'm not scared.  Because I see you, and you're here too.