For eight minutes, our blind professor taught in the dark until someone alerted him. In sheepish realization, he apologized and flicked on the light switch, which nobody had touched out of fear or courtesy or both. Somehow, we were perversely drawn to dark, to drowsy states of mind where rooms have no foreground, where the air is liquor clinging to our napes, where we are allowed to forget we have bodies. As he spoke of electromagnetic radiation, of wavelengths we’d never experience, we slept through class, preferring to ripen the lie that–with light–we could see all there was to the world.