You see things up close from the back of a bicycle. Take roadkill. (Please.)
The first day you see a dead skunk in the middle of the road, it's like a recently vacated auditorium. The essential skunkness is gone but you see plenty of signs it existed only moments before.
The second day the body has begun to deflate a bit. By the third it's quite flat and the luxuriant black-and-white coat is a faded memory. On the fourth day, only teeth and claws and a few odd bits rise above a puddle of nothingness. In another day or two, you may see a greasy shadow, but maybe nothing at all.
Vibrant to vacant. Powerful to powerless. Here to gone.
It's all such a mystery.