We can’t capture reality in any medium

Our perceptions are too kind

Reality is like

A slap in the face

A bucket of ice cold water

Flashlight beam in the eyes


It’s as if each book is missing a dimension that cannot be decribed in words

It’s as if every drawing is intricately designed

But yet slightly smudged to smooth down rough edges

Reality is a square.

A painting comes close with its many layers

But still, the overcoat was forgotten

A photograph, an exact copy

Is still devoid of an important subject

They all lack feeling

While they may make you think melancholy or angry or hopeful

You cannot feel them

Not the way they were meant to be felt

No matter how well you describe a tree to a blind man

It will never be enough

He will have his own idea

And that is why we cannot capture reality

We are all blind, blind to the truth and blind to the immense design of things

Try explaining fear

You cannot

The best you can say is it’s just a feeling


They say one man’s trash is another’s treasure

Well, one man’s hell is another’s dream

But if you were blind, you wouldn’t understand what rough looks like

Or what the color green looks like

Your reality would be altered

Not implausible

But different

As everyone’s reality is

Thus, reality is




It’s just as blind as we are.


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