Blindness, an Abandoned Stove and Crickets
I knew, listening with everything I had that crickets would materialize within me. They were my first talking books. My first Caruso. Later I’d discover Lorca, his line: the little boy went looking for his voice/the king of the crickets had it…
Yes. The cricket king. A little boy with his thick spectacles. The proscenium arch of the old stove among birches.
Planet of the Blind 