There's an abandoned rolling suitcase in the gutter, the whole thing covered with masking tape. There's a bored traffic cop, dressed in a dayglo lemon windbreaker and escorting children across fifth avenue at 61st. There's a tourist couple, likely in their sixties, both slim and urbane looking, both admiring my guide dog Nira. The husband says: "She's a keeper!" The dog and I smile. It's true that people and their dogs can smile in unison. This is not a trick of the light.
It's the eve of St Patrick's Day and the day feels like Irish weather–it's a "soft day" and early spring. We walk in Central Park and the air smells of new green, the advance of green, a scent like rain and wool. Nira is happy. A big dog wagging her tail in the morning mist…
Planet of the Blind 