text: J walked west. J loved his mother and respected his father. Everything he did, he did for the love of his mother. He learned many languages, his mother spoke many. He smoked the occasional tobacco leaf because he believed it delivered him a small sense of peace. His mother smoked. J came from a small town in a country riddled with crime and struggles of power, but that never affected his lifestyle. He grew up powerful. An excellent student with ultimate focus. He learned languages and skills growing up. Traveled to distant lands to learn about their cultures. He was on a quest west. His quest was in search for the truth. Not a truth about a crime, or a truth about anything in particular but rather, the only truth. He wished to find the truth of man. His quest was to give him answers to the unanswerable. Death. J knew his mother would not be with him his whole life and that is the only pain that he bore. He was not entertained by small temptations such as money or women. He traveled the world ate delicacies from different cultures, scaled mountains and floated rivers, learned different styles of combat and mastered foreign music. Though he was never satisfied. He didn’t value the material, he rarely even valued experience. He valued the truth. He clawed at every chance to find the most obscure of religions to find what is the purpose in hopes to tie it all together. He searched for prophets and scholars to find the purpose, but he never could find it. No matter who he talked to, he saw only the things he wanted to see. His mother. The farther west he went the less he could feel his mother’s love. He meditated and saw nothing but her and when he opened his eyes his pain came back. It was not a gruesome pain, fore no one else would ever notice it. But a pain that ate away at his soul as every second passed by that he was not with her. He knew his mother’s demise would come but he also knew she did not want him home. She wanted more for her boy, but that boy would never let go of the thought of her. Because he couldn’t have her the chase continued. He traveled more and more west circumnavigating the globe impressing beautiful women of all nations with his intelligence and poise. He traveled to another land and as his quest continued, he heard of a book. A book written by a blind man in a language only the blind man knew. This gave J an idea. He believed that because the blind man has never seen the world for as it really is, he must be seeing the truth of humanity. The blind man’s book was now the chase. J scoured even farther to find the blind man’s book, one not influenced by temptation. A book written about what the mind sees when no thoughts of women, money, greed, pain, and lust are there. J believed this book may find these seeds to his happiness, that is of course after his mother. J followed prophets and poets, philosophers and scientist to find something that didn’t exist. While this chase was occurring he received a letter from his father. His mother has gotten terribly ill and he needs to return to his home country as soon as possible. He traveled home. After only a few days J had traveled across nations to see his mother again. He saw her laying in bed with his father and family around her and he immediately shed tears. He felt powerless. He told his mother he came as soon as he could. His mother responded telling him that it is going to be ok. She tells him one last time she loves him. He watches her take her last breath. J watches as her eyes roll back as his body quivers and tears stream down his face while he stares at her. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Everything he has ever loved and lived for had disappeared. His father grabs his shoulder but he is quick to brush it off. He doesn’t want comfort from others. He doesn’t want a father. He wants his mom. J walks outside as his tears have stopped and stands on the front steps of his family’s home. He stares out at the country, but to him he sees nothing. Nothings has value to him anymore. The land that once fed him is now just space that take up his vision where his mother should be. The mountains disgust him as he wishes they could be his mother’s smile. He stops shaking. J gets an idea. His mother is now gone and he has lost the will for life. He tries to think of something that made him feel that life is worth living and he reminds himself of the book. The book written by the blind man in a language he can only understand. But J knows that book does not exist. He has seen every country and talked to every prophet and preacher. The book has never existed. If a blind man wrote it in a language that only he can understand, he has been searching for something that will give him no answers. He must write it. He realizes his mother’s death does not stop him from finding that truth. He can have it. He can write the book. His only plight is now sight. His realization and thirst for a purpose has now left him in a cold sweat. He shivers on the front steps. His father exits the building to see his son and ask him if he is ok. His son runs to the nearest town. J runs to the library sweating and inspired. He grabs empty pages and a pencil. The librarian asks what he is doing but he doesn’t respond. He climbs to the roof of the building with two pages and a pencil. Enough for him to paint what is in his mind. He looks at the paper and pencil and hesitates but thinks of his mom and realizes what he has to do. He picks up the pencil and stabs his own eye. He pulls out the pencil with it comes blood and puss from his left eye, he screams in pain. The librarian has notified the town and his father. But it is too late. He stands on top of the building by himself and gouges out his other eye. Hindering himself from any perceptions of the world. Temptation he sees it as. As blood drips from both sockets he then picks up the pencil. He begins writing on the pages. He doesn’t know what he is writing but he loves it. He smiles as he cries blood. He finishes his book. He realizes he has drawn and written all he knows as a blind man. He cries out in joy. His masterpiece is finished. He runs his hands across it to see what he has written but he realizes he cannot understand it. It is written in a language he cannot read without vision. He realizes what he has done. He has created what he had searched for because it is what he cannot have. His tears of blood have stopped. He stands there motionless, as if he was frozen in time. His want to see it is more painful than the lead that filled his eyes. It is more painful than watching his mother pass. The pain he feels is beyond comprehension. He jumps. Hours later his body is found with two destroyed eyes. The townspeople cry for him and still see him as the young boy who his mother saw him as. Later in the day city officials climbed to the roof to investigate and there they found something that was so terrible and beautiful at the same time. On the pages was the most real drawing they have ever seen. It was his mother. Not just a picture or sketch. But in detail. Every scar and wrinkle, every tooth and strand of hair all crafted by her blind son. Signed by him with tears of blood.