If I accelerate, my vision becomes blurred, it is the effect of “fuzziness” that brings speed: a questioning of normal perception. In other words, it abolishes common sense. It separates my body from the outside of the world and yet, simultaneously, it brings us closer.
Why is speed so scary to us? Fear of the accident, of the body shattered as a whole? Or is it because it consumes everything in its way?
On the train, if I stare out of the window, the landscape shatters into narrow lines like a broken screen. The only way for me to counter this effect is to repeatedly rotate my head 180° to follow the panorama. I try with the help of my body moving to partially catch up with the speed. Without this back and forth, the speed of the train crushes space in favor of time.
It goes beyond me. The blur that speed introduces brings youth and death together. The decomposing body begins its slow disappearance. It can be seen, it can be touched and heard but it has neither taste nor smell, in other words it can be felt: the feeling of euphoria that comes from the smudging of the outside world.