The sun of sense
My Treasure, My SensitivityMy treasure—that is my sensitivity.
The moment I was born as an abnormal body, an emergency surgery took place, and my world of hearing entrusted everything to my eyes in just a single day—before vanishing forever. My eyes were like a widow mourning the ears that would never return.
At countless family gatherings and events, where I was taken by my parents, I remained forever silent amidst conversations I could never comprehend. I simply gazed, like an infant, at the movements of hands, the shifting of facial expressions, the flickering of light—every possible aspect of the visual world.
“If only I had ears, I could speak on equal terms with everyone,” I lamented. Yet, as I grieved, my silent world gradually took form: the cool soil of silence, the infinite ocean of imagination, the drifting clouds of thought, and the radiant sun of sensitivity.
Born from my eyes, this sensitivity shone like a sun, warmly illuminating my dark and lonely world. Thanks to this treasure—this sun—I became someone who could immerse himself in endless, fascinating daydreams.
And so, I want to cherish and protect my sensitivity.
But sometimes, I still feel lonely. The golden tears reflected on the evening water’s surface tell the tale.Mar 26, 2025
#sun
#deaf
#sunset
#eye
Comments
Your story is inspiring. I'm drawn to the framing darkness of this piece, as hopeful colors remain on the horizon.
•
