2: on texture.

To describe texture in words is challenging so I will write where it is absent.

Over the last few years, I have had to rest my eyes from any type of visual aids.

When I do not have my glasses on, the world is void of texture in my line of sight. Where different object should be differentiated, colours bleed over the edges. There are no “fore” or “back” ground to which I can orient my position. There is no smooth, rough, just light and shadow.

In this case, I rely on touch for texture. Even in the dark, I know the delicate weave of my own blanket. I reach for the smooth ceramic of my coffee mug knowing the difference between the matte finish of that of my husband’s mug. I have also known the the feeling of each child’s hand grasping for mine in the middle of the night.

There are phases in my life where the seeing and feeling the texture is sensory overload. The warp and weft can intersect at uncomfortable places, where bitter meets sweet, longing gives relief, and the future is more reliable than the present.

Today I choose to take off my glasses and rest easy in two dimensions. I refrain from touching the depth for just a moment.






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