A blind man's vision on a winter's evening
He imagines walking out the door and finding something entirely different on the other side. He imagines brick lanes devoid of the automotive monsters which plague him so, instead occupied only by foot traffic. He can almost hear the gentle noises of each step blending together into pattering easily pressed away into the background. He can nearly feel the humanity moving around him hurried by the rain and the cold of a winter’s evening. He can see the faint yellow light of the lamps pressing back fruitlessly against the gloom. From doors and windows comes the warm glow of life, the sound of which occasionally comes through as one door is opened. He dreams of turning into a particular inviting storefront, greeted by familiar faces and welcoming voices. He imagines the owner knows his name, that the waiter knows him well. He thinks of making small talk as he is shown to a cozy spot, greeting others along his way. He thinks of the waiter asking if he will have his usual, and of answer...