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I have been a graphic designer and an English teacher for 30 years. 30 years and counting. I give all my gratitude to teaching which has sowed in me patience, initiated me into the greatest works and, of course, improved my spelling.
Achromatopsia
Sep 16, 2019 4 years agoAlthough doctors tell me that I should be happy because I was lucky and I'm doing pretty well, I'm having a hard time getting used to my new life. Of course, I was able to go back to work, and I can talk, read, watch TV, go to the cinema, drive, and go on vacation. Everything is normal or almost for me, but the world isn't quite as before. It is only shades of gray. As a result of my stroke, I have achromatopsia. I don't see colors, except at night when I dream. Oh, yes, I know it, I'm lucky, because I have no other lasting damage. The worst is probably when I go to a restaurant. I'm no longer entitled to pink shrimps, only gray, regardless of their size. And what about gray wine, sometimes I don't know if I'm drinking white or red. In truth, the gray wine isn't gray, it's kind of an off-gray. It doesn't have quite the same aroma or flavor as those familiar to me before the stroke, but it's important to accompany gray beans. Sir, your steak, how would you like it cooked? The gray-haired boy asks... Light gray please, and for dessert I will have cake with gray fruit. All these menus are hardly appetizing, except for the undertaker probably. For some time, I've been doing rehabilitation; the brain is so malleable it seems. I learned to distinguish the top grey light (Stop) and the bottom grey light (Go). At night, few people are capable, but I can tell if the crossing cats are gray-grey or tabby-gray. It's a real pride. Besides, I'm saving up. I sold my plasma screen and went to the flea market to buy, for almost nothing, an old black and white TV and a bakelite phone, paid in black naturally. I haven't yet found the adapters that will allow me to use them, but I'm hopeful with Black-Friday. On the books side, I tried to read Les âmes grises by Philippe Claudel (not an English translation but in the original French--I've kept up with my French since school as it's such a colorful language), but it broke my spirits and since then I've been feeling a little black. The good news is from my wife. She gave me Fifty shades of grey. It helped to spice up our love life and since then, having become a masochist, and my grey matter being almost intact, I begin to indulge myself in my new universe without inhibition. Is it not so for the great artists of black and white photography, namely Ansel Adams and Diane Arbus?
