In the Country of the Blind, the one-eyed man is homeless.

There are so many things you cannot see -- the children in your alleys, the women dying on your streets, the poison in your air, my humanity, your own denial.

You refuse me any room in your orderly world, but my friends and I own an invisible city all around you, that grows each time you pull your horizon in tighter.

I wonder, which one of us will run out of ground first?

Essays