Tinted Filter

Yesterday, we caught two different long-distance vans. Overall, they were much the same. Slightly reckless driving. Same size and remarkably nice interior design—at least, when the leather seats aren’t in full sunlight. Plenty of time to sit and stare out the window. Some notable differences though, too. For example, the second had less windy roads, but also transported raw meat in the back for some reason, permeating everything inside the bus with a beautiful smell. There was also a strange greyish-blue coloured tint on all the windows for our second ride, barring a tiny little hole next to me where the cover had peeled away.

It was fascinating to observe how I instinctively saw everything around me in a different light—quite literally. Sapped of colour, the roadside shops looked more rundown, the foliage less green, and the signs of life harder to find. But if I squint and peer through the untainted gap, it feels like a whole different world out there, rich with colour and vibrance and activity. Whether you’re aware of it of or not, the filters we look through are constantly changing how we perceive things. Rose-tinted glasses is a very real phenomenon.