If I am brave enough to stand against those who have been groomed by fear, I will recognize that where I get knocked down is all about where life begins, and has nothing to do with where it ends.

Blindness is a choice born of fear, nursed by complacency and groomed by comfort. And what I often don’t see in my blindness is that 'choice' evidences the existence of other options.

She was never without dark glasses, she was always well groomed, there was a consequential good taste in the plainness of her clothes, the blues and grays and lack of luster that made her, herself, shine so.