I've been following a green spot all day. It's a blurred stain-like apparatus that, at first, I thought was a smudge on my glasses, but after removing them and finding no such stain, my disturbance over the previously simple matter grew more disturbing.
I think about going blind alot, probably as much as I think about death. I'm not sure if I would miss sight, not these days, not in this modern world. My imagination is as firtle as ever, in fact, it seems to grow rather than decline, and it has proven useful and successful in so many situations in my writing, and in actuality as well.
What do blind people see when they dream?
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