She gazed upon the inky blackness of the lake, the rippling waters reflecting the night sky. The lake, which she had previously only known by daylight, was usually so clear and clean, yet in darkness it reminded her only of shiny black muck.
Somehow she was struck with the beauty of the sight, its free-flowing water appearing to be slow and viscous, shiny and sparkling in the glow of the streetlights. It was strange how such a sight could be so pretty. It looked uninviting and the idea of touching it repulsed her, yet gazing on it as she walked past, she couldn’t help but think that in its own inky, disgusting way, it really was beautiful.
And then she realised that she was internally narrating her current circumstances to herself, in third-person past-tense. Awesome, she sarcastically thought to herself, somehow unable to stop using this strange and surprisingly fun way of describing the world. Awesome indeed.