| blind_man_walking | ||
| ever dumbening | Walking with a blind man I can hear myself think. I imagine how I'm filed, and how I file. Spices sometimes miss the pan, as dirty stoves don't matter, dirty dishes do. I mention my art classes; the results of two of three of which his hands could see. He mentions his approaching child, and this time I'm the one who doesn't have the tools to see. | 030217 |