“There’s a story she sometimes tells about the train ride from Paddington Station to Oxford when she met a photographer who was almost completely blind. He wore dark sunglasses, and said he’d damaged his retinas a decade ago on a trip to Antarctica. His suit was perfectly pressed, and he held his camera in his lap. He said he saw the world differently now, and it wasn’t necessarily bad.
He asked if he could take a picture of her. When he raised up the lens and looked through it, my mother asked what he saw.
“The same thing I always see,” he said.
“Which is?”
“A blur,” he said.
“Then why do it?” she asked.
“In case my eyes ever heal,” he said. “So I’ll know what I’ve been looking at.”
— History of Love by Nicole Krauss (via doublespacing)
(via stuplendid)
