blob: d037e96f0a8d1e0aa065aaf600236700d0175fbf (
plain)
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
|
<article>
<h2>Who is the woman in my eye</h2>
<p>
When I was little I would stare into the lights around my room. It would create little spots in my vision; flickering and dancing that would eventually fade away. As they would face every time the every shrinking flickering dot would become this image of a woman's face. She was beautiful. She captivated me. I would do this constantly growing up. I would stare into my ceiling lights, in the lights coming through my window, anywhere - if it meant I could see her. I would try staring at larger lights hoping that final flickering dot was larger and I would be able to see her more clearly. She stayed with me for most of my childhood. It wasn't until I was around high-school that I lose memory of seeing her. Which makes sense since this was when the lights, in general, faded from my eyes. But who was she?
</p>
<p>
I like to think she was me. She <em>is</em> me.
</p>
<p>
If you ever wish to share your story or ask a question you can always email me at:
<a href="mailto:dear@thewomaninmyeye.org">dear[at]thewomaninmyeye[dot]org</a>
</p>
<footer>
<p>Permalink:
<a href="/about-her.html">https://thewomaninmyeye.org/about-her.html</a>
</p>
</footer>
</article>
|