Clicked at The Little Flower Convent for the Visually Impaired, Chennai
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Ensayo Sobre la Ceguera
Autor: José Saramago
Polaroid que usé de separador del libro de Saramago y que coincidencialmente se volvió ciega con una blancura pestilente.
Large, on black. by Raglansurf's suggestion.
In fear every day, every evening,
he calls her aloud from above,
carefully watched for a reason,
painstaking devotion and love,
surrendered to self preservation,
from others who care for themselves.
a blindness that touches perfection,
but hurts just like anything else.
We may remark in passing that to be blind and beloved may, in this world where nothing is perfect, be among the most strangely exquisite forms of happiness. The supreme happiness in life is the assurance of being loved; of being loved for oneself, even in spite of oneself; and this assurance the blind man possesses. In his affliction, to be served is to be caressed. Does he lack anything? no. Possessing love he is not deprived of light. A love, moreover, that is wholly pure. There can be no blindness where there is this certainty.
O loss of sight, of thee I most complain! Blind among enemies, O worse than chains, dungeon or beggary, or decrepit age! Light, the prime work of God, to me is extinct, and all her various objects of delight annulled, which might in part my grief have eased. Inferior to the vilest now become of man or worm; the vilest here excel me, they creep, yet see; I, dark in light, exposed to daily fraud, contempt, abuse and wrong, within doors, or without, still as a fool, in power of others, never in my own; scarce half I seem to live, dead more than half.
To speak when there is nothing to be said: this is imprudence. To be silent when there is something to be said: this is deception. To speak without paying attention to the expression on the person's face: this is called blindness.