I had foot therapy today. That’s always a nice little trip. The foot therapist is a very kind and friendly man. I always feel a little bad that he has to spend all day tending to other people’s feet. It doesn’t seem like a nice thing to do, to me. But since that is the profession he has chosen I guess he does not mind. <\/p>\n
My feet are doing fine. Apart from a little tiny gash. I’m not sure where it came from, I don’t remember hitting my foot or anything. We have to keep an eye on that, to be sure that it goes away on its own.<\/p>\n
I was sitting in the chair with my feet in a tub of water, looking around. Barely being able to see the room. It’s a small room. White. I could make out litlte things here and there. I can see the chairs and the walls leading to the small space. But I don’t really know what the place looks like. I will never really have a clear picture of it. It’s sort of like in old computer games, before 3D graphics were improved. Like wireframe. Lines. A mesh skeleton. A general impression. Like something from a dream, not clearly defined in my mind.<\/p>\n
It is strange to think that I will never know new spaces. Rooms and places. All the places I enter from now on in my life will be blurry and undefined. Meanwhile, I can think of places where I haven’t been for 15 years and they seem completely crisp and clear to me. Almost just on the other side of the street from the foot clinic there once was a Bogshoppen. A shop with used books and comics, you could go and trade your old stuff for new (used) things. I used to go there a lot as a kid. When my mom or dad were taking me home from their workplaces we’d often stop in and I’d get a Jumbobog. Comic book. The place closed many years ago, reaplced by a Blockbuster. But in my head I can still see the rooms there, the shelves with squared boxes full of comics. I collected Superman comics. The comic had closed down, maybe before I was even born. But they still kept getting new used ones in Bogshoppen, so even though it didn’t come out anymore I still eventually amassed a complete collection. <\/p>\n
Anyway, I can still close my eyes and see that place. And others. I can see the steep, narrow stairs leading up to the cafeteria in Kulturgyngen. I can see the gym room in the Reva Center. The coffee room at the barn. <\/p>\n
Wherever I go from now on, the places will never be that clear to me.<\/p>\n
And it goes for people too. The foot therapist. I can somewhat see him. I have a general impression of him. But if I close my eyes I cannot picture his face. If I walked by him on the street I wouldn’t recognise him.<\/p>\n
Ulla, the lady from the blind society. All the doctors and nurses I have met. All the people I will meet from now on, I will never really be able to recognise them or picture them in my head. When Magnethe and Vanilje have kids in a few months, I might not be able to tell them apart.<\/p>\n
It’s not that I feel really bad about this, or sad. It’s just a strange thought. Like my memories have used up all the hard drive space available, and there is no room for new input. <\/p>\n
How peculiar life can be.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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