Saturday, November 11, 2006

Things I see

I am finally in possession of a camera phone, which will enable me to take avant-garde photos of the things I see while on my mundane travels. I pass the stuffed sheep (who seems to be put out on a daily basis) on one of my walking routes. I have a great deal of respect for the genius behind this specific permutation of the Serta sheep ad campaign. However, I admit that it has not moved me to enter the Broadview Mattress Showroom and browse. Perhaps one day I'll need a nice nap in the middle of my walk. I wonder if they'll let me sleep with the big stuffed sheep.

This is a shoe. It is not my shoe. I don't know whose shoe it is. I did not touch it or inspect it any further than necessary to take this picture. I scanned the area for another shoe but, sadly, did not find one.

Hello shoe. Lonely, lonely shoe.

Further down the road, I came upon a sheaf of papers. They were startlingly white and consisted of a number of stapled bunches that appeared to be blank. I picked them up for a closer look and found the papers to be dimpled with braille marks. I brushed my fingers against the raised bumps and wondered if these were school sheets or instruction manuals or perhaps the work of a writer.

I thought about the person who dropped the pages. Was it a huge loss or were the pages not so important? What sort of printer creates braille print? How does reading with your fingers change the experience? No matter how much I fingered and stared, however, the secrets therein would not be revealed to me and I concluded this to be a victorious irony.

I stacked the sheets neatly and set them on a nearby utility box, hoping that a friend or guardian of their owner would find them before the next rain.

I raised my head to take in the contrast of yellow and brown leaves against the impossibly blue sky. I looked at a young man polishing his gleaming red sports car. I thought of the perfect hue of my daughter's skin and the pleasing pattern of hair on my husband's chest. I thought of the shoe and the big stuffed sheep. I gazed one more time at the bright white papers. Otherwise occupied with the gift of eyesight and a smattering of tears, I neglected to take a picture of the cryptic braille pages before walking on.


Anonymous said...

Splendid and inspirational.

I may carry out a photographic study of the ubiquitous canine scat in the streets of Paris.

Anonymous said...

That was sweet and emotional. I posted about shitting yourself.

Talk about a contrast...


Dean said...

My fav sort of EOB piece, in which honesty, passion and craft exist in equal measures.

I have had moments like this.

nadina said...

ahhhh, I just had the satisfaction of reading a a good page. For me it can be look at inspired artwork.The words just work together , create balence.i don't know but ..ahhh, thanks I feel satisfied.

Lil Toni said...

I've been lurking for a while, and enjoy your blog a great deal.
Most of the time, you're one funny lady!

Thanks for visiting my meager lil spot.

Anonymous said...

I have never seen Braille pages before. Imagine reading in the dark.

Satan said...

the blind have never seen braille pages before either dumbass

i love vision

its important for some of my better creations like lust and envy and avarice

not so important for sloth

eve's other half said...

Once, I was in a bar trying to read my newspaper. Beside me was an annoyingly loud group of people laughing raucously. I turned in irritation, hoping, if I'm being honest, that they would catch my eye and be suitably chastised.

Then I realised they were deaf, and were signing each other at high speed. The jokes were apparently so good that people were in danger of wetting themselves.

Like you, I glimpsed another world of hidden possibilities. I never thought deaf people could have so much fun. How stupid of me!

Then I was jealous I wasn't part of it.

Bugwit Homilies said...

As it should have been, Erin.


FLAMINGO1 said...

Satan makes a very good point. If someone blind lost those pages, how are they going to spot them stacked neatly on that utility box? Wouldn't they have had a better chance of finding them if they were tossed there in a pile - creating more potential surface area for someone fumbling around searching for them?

I disagree with Satan on his point regarding sloth, however. How can you truly reach an acceptable level of sloth without a television and a remote control. I exhibit my highest levels of sloth while magnificently working the remote control. I have been known to actually change channels while asleep. Mad skilz.

Let's think, people (and demons).

By the way, Erin - you have wonderful way of turning the mundane into something so very interesting...which is why I come here every day. Thank you.