Over time we talk ourselves into boxes made of tradition, taped tightly closed with sticky strips of habit. Our routines seal us into a bubble. A world.
And sometimes that world is dying.
Open a blue umbrella; practically perfect in every way.
A nylon shield from terrifying fallout, a gusty lift from the mortal morass, a tool to slow your foggy descent into the new yet-to-be.
It just takes a hop and a pop, and you're on your way.