standing up in the morning and going blind.
for a minute you can’t tell, you’re just standing there staring at the mirror until you suddenly realize there isn’t a mirror, or anything else, you haven’t been staring at yourself but instead at the static which you didn't realize was indistinguishable from said mirror.
you stand there until you can once again feel the weight of physical embodiment seep back into you, and it feels much better than you expected, and you're glad it’s the sort of morning kind enough to deliver you such vast expanses of qualia in return for no more than the simple act of standing up.
one of these days your calm appreciation of the sensation of blindness will most certainly give way to a new, perhaps even calmer appreciation of the cold bathroom tiles against your face, as your daily meandering quest for the upright position takes a sharp and unexpected turn.
but until then you’re content to savor the feeling of becoming alive again after another one of life's brief and unexpected pauses.