The day I was completely blind,
It happened so quietly that there was almost no sign, like a door shut in a faint voice, lighter than in Conan.
I'm not scared, but I'm comfortable with it, like my heart just put down something heavy, no miracles, no hope, nothing to wait for.
.
The day that really saddened me was the day when the borders started slipping, the frame blurred like a fog.
The color that used to be clear faded one drop at a time. The lines gradually disappeared. Finally, the fog unfolded until I could see nothing else.
.
I never had an anniversary for this loss.
There are only some mornings, some evenings when memories float back and gently touch the shoulder, giving a little reflection, enough to know that it was important and still a little, but it doesn't hurt as well.
.
Over time, I found that not everything was gone, that my art was just deforming.
Of the images, four are convex lines on the board.
From color to smell and touch.
.
Of course, it wasn't my childhood dream, but it wasn't a loss.
It was like a sapling growing up in the soil that I didn't expect anything else to grow. Small, light but honest.
And this sweet fact made me understand that dreams don't disappear, they just change the way they come back to me, and I'm still doing art, even without seeing them.


































































































