I’m in the pitch black and my heart is racing. It’s not the kind of darkness that my eyes can adjust to – I can’t see a thing, not a single sliver of light.
My cane, which I’ve been told to move slowly in front of me from left to right, clangs against what feels like a metal gate. I’m seriously worried that I’m going to smack into a wall, so I go slowly.
With my free hand, I reach out to check what’s nearby, touching what might be a tree trunk. Dogs bark as I make my way through what I’m pretty sure is a market stall, rummaging around to find something that feels like an onion. I don’t know if it’s red or white, but I can feel the layers of peel.
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