The other day while applying moisturiser to my face I felt a stinging sensation in my eye. I splashed some water. Seeing myself in the mirror, I spotted tiny creamy blobs on my lashes. I wiped them away with a tissue.
Within minutes, things became hazy. The world according to my left eye was a blur, as though I were watching everything through a gauze curtain. Using my right index finger, I touched the iris gently. It felt sticky; the pupil was dilated.
It seemed a bit like a horror film where you see things through peep-holes and they are distorted. Or there are extreme close-ups of just a part of the anatomy. I could not type or read. I lay down; eye-drops did not work immediately. I thought crying might help. But there was nothing to cry about.
I waited, holding my palm over one eye, then the other. I got to see things around me in two ways. The window now had double bars; the room looked larger; the ceiling taller. The lines on my palm extended to my wrists. The panic subsided. I began to appreciate sight and vision.
The vision to be able to see beyond eyes.