Blind Man Reading

September 30, 2009

If you have found him, it is probably too late for you. He sits on a park bench at night under a flickering street lamp, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses, a large book open on his lap. A cane rests beside him, confirming that he is blind.

His lips move as if he is mouthing the words as he reads, one finger tracing a path from the top of the page to the bottom. He does not turn the page. You notice that he is not looking at the book, but at a point slightly above it. You try to follow his gaze and then you remind yourself that he is blind, so what can he be looking at?

If you are lucky, you walk away and forget that you saw him. But if you are curious, you watch his lips, trying to figure out what he is saying. You realize that he is whispering aloud and you move closer, leaning in until your ear almost touches his mouth.

He says, over and over, “Do not read the book.”

You look down and see that the pages are blank. But as his finger moves, a name appears beneath it. It is yours. And now, you are his.

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