“I find that I am trying to recall old photographs of myself, just to remember what I look like.
I discover with a shock that I cannot remember. Must I become a blank on the wall of my own gallery?”
(Touching the Rock: An Experience of Blindness, John M. Hull)
An instant of loneliness and darkness, the eyelids beating when everything is faded and blurred. Lights spots and colours pass by without a real meaning, emphasizing how hard an objective relationship with the real is.