I am a blind couple; a man and a woman. We each wear a unique pair of black sunglasses whose features are peculiar to our necessity. Neither of us is completely blind; you see, she is blind to things that I can say, and I am blind to things that she can see. We are blind— and see — in other ways, as well. Each of us has a guide dog. Each dog can see things the other one can’t. We have learned to use the blindness of the other as an asset. We can do many things that those who are sighted cannot imagine; after all, we do not live in your world. We walk your streets, but none hear our footsteps. We pass as ghosts, even in a crowd. Each of us has a guide dog. Each dog can see things the other one can’t. She can see things I cannot. I can say things she cannot. We inform each other; constantly, intimately, ceaselessly. Arm in arm. We walk. A dog on either side. My dog is blind to things I can detect. Her dog is a catalog of seeing. And there is a fifth participant. Arm in arm, guide dog on either side. A man and a woman. She is blind to the things that my eyes say. I am blind to things that her words see. Each dog is uniquely blind as well. And, of course, there is fifth... participant. Even beyond the day. Twilight. The night. Dawn. The morning. We walk. Sometimes, we trade sides. Or dogs. Or the fifth participant. I am a blind couple. Arm in arm. A man, and a woman. We are walking. In these marks. In you. Now. Here. Nowhere. — an anonymous informant
Posted on: Sat, 17 Aug 2013 09:39:53 +0000
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