Vision thing

Sitting by the river on a sunny afternoon, I was casting rocks into
the murky depths of the lazy winding Trent. They made fat plopping
sounds as they disappeared, never to be seen again by 21st Century man.
I wondered though, just how it would feel to be sinking with the
stones, so I took my eyesight and placed on the back of a particularly
knobbly rock. I felt a dizzying and sickening lurch as my hand took the
rock, sight and all and whirled it into the air above my head and then
over the water.

For the briefest time, all upward motion ceased and the stone seemed
suspended before gravity took over and bought us back home. Faster now,
than my ascent, the rock and my vision hurtled toward the water. I just
managed to see my body on the riverbank, blindly flailing around under
a tree, when the darkness of the water struck me. We passed through a
brown spectrum, light brown to mid brown and finally, the very dark
brown of churned mud, silt and effluent. Down amongst the rocks, cans
and bottles, I could see a very pale sun trying to remind me to come
home, but it's message was garbled by the rough swirling water.
Noiseless ghosts of fish wafted past me and the underside of a swan
kicked it's way above my head. My world had become a sepia toned silent
movie. The riverbed seethed wildly as the pleasure boats made their
seemingly serene journeys across the water's surface. Propellers
whirled the mud into a thick choking soup, my singular sense was
rendered impotent and the sun stopped waving to me from on high.