the only parts of the body the same size at birth as they`ll always be. "That`s why all babies are beautiful," Thurber used to say as he grew blind -- not dark, he`d go on to explain, but floating in a pale light always, a kind of candlelit murk from a sourceless light. He needed dark to see: for a while he drew on black paper with white pastel chalk but it grew worse. Light bored into his eyes but where did it go? Into a sea of phosphenes, along the wet fuse of some dead nerve, it hid everywhere and couldn`t be found. I`ve used up three guesses, all of them right. It`s like scuba diving, going down into the black cone-tip that dives farther than I can, though I dive closer all the time.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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