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The day was like any other, at least as unique as every other day was. The clouds had decided to be grass today, and the grass decided to be the sky. Water was the sun, and the sun was water, the purple winds rippling the lake’s bright yellow surface. Sometimes the dead lived, and something the living died. It was hard to tell which world was which, for which world was for the living and which world was for the dead? Did it really matter if both worlds were shared between the two? Perhaps there was a third world, or perhaps there were infinite worlds, each different from the other. She hoped there were three.
I did a challenge in class where every five minutes, whatever word my teacher said, I had to pivot my writing to it immediately. Anyways, here's the character's rambling thoughts.

