It wasn’t much. A scrap of paper. A dropped thing from the terrible world. The walls were oscillating the way they do when spring has arrived. Later in life he’d see how even the smallest items are an inheritance. But on the day he found the torn paper he was free and rather light as befitted a small boy who was legally blind and couldn’t read what he’d found yet he put it in his pocket. He was already in love with guesswork. And other things happened. In the woods fir trees swayed and cones rained down. A dog barked from a great distance. Those were good times. Everything was far away. It took no strength to be at rest. All around him light lay on the humid earth.
Planet of the Blind 