One day, he was horrified to find his skin turned dark on waking up. As much as Anders wished it's a nightmare and waited for an undoing, the answer from his mirror image and selfie picture unfailingly suggested there is no turning back. White became black.
Lest you think it's a Kafkaesque fictional scene, I have to tell you my recent experience in real life. I grappled with transformation on waking up, the way Anders did. I found my near vision lost on walking up this Sunday. The book starts to move further and further away, more or less like how the hairline moves away with age.
I came to the inescapable conclusion that it's time for me to buy bifocal glasses. Which continued to bother me. Nobody wishes to find a decline in near vision, least of all by a voracious reader. I was chagrined at calling myself a presbyope. Kübler-Ross was
hovering over the room as I looked up state-of-mind analysis publication on how people felt about presbyopia. The best part of verbtaim analysis is that we can listen to the way each individual frames his or her life event. The sad part is that I have to agree with one of the social media posts "I feel that my arms are now too short."
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