When I was in college I read a book about Egyptian temples which argued the holy architecture of the ancients was designed to be the machinery of astrology. A temple could explain the past and the future by magnifying the present. I loved that idea, loved the mythic notion that the very furniture of a room can reveal mysteries. There I was, walking late at night with Corky and feeling smiles of glee from dark houses and twinkling automobiles. What was happening to me? An old severance was breaking apart. I was becoming my blindness with the help of a dog girl.
I was racing across the watery plain of my blindness under a sky that suddenly felt like a luminous home. This was Corky’s doing. Whole parts of my psyche were cracking open. I was certain I’d read something about this back in the college library–maybe it was Carl Jung–I was both bright and tranquil and Corky was shaking her harness and she sounded a bit like a reindeer from Lapland and I was splitting the currents of the strange night streets. My dog girl. My vasty dog!
Planet of the Blind 