Hermits Rock

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It was a year ago when my optometrist first looked at my eyes assiduously—testing my field of vision, putting new monocles to my sockets that he might peer more closely, measuring the depth of my cornea with a probe—, but not until yesterday, when he did it all again, did it really occur to me that this risk-for-glaucoma thing isn’t temporary. My optic nerves will continue to be narrower, more elongated than he would like; I’ll see his own eyes narrow and his genial mouth frown slightly in concern every year for as long as I continue to see him.



Only if you believe that Borges had no soul

though, he is the model for Eco’s blind librarian

As labyrinthine as his stories could be, a case could be made…