A deep, heavy fog penetrates my flesh and stings my eyes. Yes, I’m outside, but does it matter? Feeling closed like a fragile tulip in light spring snow, I’m unable to see even one meter ahead. This blindness shrouds my very being. Prostrate – leaves me momentarily saturated, as I await an opening for contact and a promised touch of vision to bring hope for clearing.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
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