Having reached the age of habituation, it's easy to take my surroundings for granted. A tree is still a tree, a hydrant is a hydrant, and the clouds are where they've always been, though they seem darker now. To avoid further complacency, I believe the time has come to take my surroundings with a grain of salt, questioning the certainties that frame my worldview, and cleaning the peephole I use to spy on the little terrorist across the hall.
Sure, I'm aware of my surroundings, but are my surroundings aware of me? Of course not. Espionage doesn't work that way.