Carlos asked if I understood how to see. What a ridiculous question, I said. Of course, I can grasp the concept of rods and cones and the color wheel of motion that spirals before me.
“But do you want to see differently tonight?” he asked. “Do you want to be conscious of it?” Carlos is forever trying to change our dialogue; the mundane has far too many trappings for him.
On many Friday nights, I’m content with wine and TV. But tonight, I grabbed the bed sheet and the tape from his hands and saw countless things. And Carlos, grinning, seemed happy for the first time in months.
Portrait: Giola De Antoniis