Erich Maria Remarque. Return (№ 21062)

How odd: these blind, lost his sight in the war, traffic other than that of a man born blind, - promptly and at the same time careful, these people have not gained confidence through long, dark years. They are still living in the memory of the colors of the sky, earth, and twilight. They keep to themselves even as a sighted person and when someone refers to him involuntarily turn his head, as if want to look at the speaker. Some eyes black bandage, but most of the bandages is not like without them eye closer to the light and the colors. Over their heads down the blind lights a pale sunset. In the Windows of the shops break out the lights. And these people barely feel on your forehead is soft and gentle the evening air. In heavy boots slowly they wander through the eternal darkness that cloud enveloped them, and thought them hard and sadly get stuck in the poor numbers that they should, but cannot, be bread, shelter, and life. Get up slowly in the dim cells of the brain the ghosts of hunger and destitution. Helpless, full of blind fear, blind feel them approaching, but not see them and can't do anything else
once rallied, slowly stepping through the streets, raising from darkness into the
light pallid face, with a mute entreaty fixed on those who have
can see when you will see?!