Tiresias is blind. I have met him before. I do not pity him because blindness is different in antiquity. I imagine I am more compassionate. Odysseus seeks him in the underworld.
Blindness has given Tiresias other eyes. But how blind am I? I ask. I am blind in ways my sight hides. I see and I see not. What then are these eyes for that I have that I use that I see the world around me surrounding me.
Sight surrounds seeing. To see is to understand. Looking is a way not to see, and I do look and look and look, the gaze does amaze.
Wonderment or wondering; the spectacle. I need spectacles. I can’t read without stretching my arms to their limits.