peachpenumbra@googlemail.com
01/05/10
I take your sunglasses from beside where you sleep and put them on. I look at the sky, and see it through your eyes. My own vision is obscured by a band of focus, black blurs marking thick plastic frames and cutting the sky in half. The clear glass offers no protection from the glare of the sun, and the fact that I don’t clean them often simply smears the light across their lenses. Yours are large, a fading tint sweeping from top to bottom, turning the clouds from bleached cotton to yellowing linen. I see clearly in neither.
