Monday, March 25, 2013
Part one of three.
* * *
In the waiting room of my doctor's office, I flip through a magazine.
He's running late. I'm running bored.
I turn to an article about colour blindness. It details the various degrees and facets of colour blindness, pointing out the different colours affected.
Imagine, I wonder, going through life, not seeing what everyone else sees. I am at once filled with sorrow for these pathetic people. How sad, I think.
The article closes with an Ishihara color test—a number, comprised of a series of coloured dots, embedded within a background of more coloured dots.
“If you can distinguish the number nine in the dots,” the article explains, “you have normal colour vision and are not colour blind.”
I scan the picture. Then I take a closer look. I analyze. Take an even closer look.
“What are they talking about?” I'm confused. “There’s no number nine.”
I pause. I reread the explanation; particularly the bit about seeing and not seing the number.
I read it again. I digest that.