You know who gave me this book? These two. My book pushers. And I can’t recall exactly what Sam said about how this book impacted him (the most beautiful, life-changing book he has every read?), nor what segment of the population he thought should read it (every single person?), but it was enough for me to forsake all other plans and start it immediately.
It was INCREDIBLE and YOU SHOULD READ IT and I can’t believe I hadn’t been told exactly that until just recently.
There are so many things that could be discussed, but I just want to share one moment:
That was the night I began to realize that something was happening to my eyes. I looked at my father and saw lines and planes I had never seen before. I could feel with my eyes. I could feel my eyes moving across the lines around his eyes and into and over the deep furrows on his forehead. He was thirty-five years old, and there were lines on his face and forehead. I could feel the lines with my eyes and feel, too, the long straight flat bridge of his nose and the clear darkness of his eyes and the strong thick curves of the red eyebrows and the thick red hair of his beard graying a little – I saw the stray gray strands in the tangle of hair below his lips. I could feel lines and points and planes. I could feel texture and color. I saw the Shabbos candles on the table glowing gold and red. I saw my mother small and warm and silken in a lovely Shabbos dress of pale blue and white. I saw my hands white and bony, my fingers long and thin, my face in the mirror above the buffet plae with black eyes and wild red hair. I felt myself flooded with the shapes and textures of the world around me. I closed my eyes. But I could still see that way inside my head. I was seeing with another pair of eyes that had suddenly come awake. I sat still in my chair and felt frightened.