LISTEN TO ME: you are blind. You don’t think you’re blind. I am not speaking metaphorically; you, like most of mankind, are physically blind to certain visual stimuli. Yes, ultraviolet, infrared, these are colors we can’t see, but then there is also saccadic blindness. Your eyes are not fixed in a mannikin-stare. They are constantly in motion, even—I would say, especially—when they are focused on one particular object. Stare at anything, no matter how steadily, how intently, and your eyes will still not quite freeze in place. To look attentively at an object, it is necessary for the eyes to make countless little adjustments. The name for an adjustment of the position of the eye is “saccade.” That’s how it always is, you eventually came to realize, here in the city’s heart: you know nothing, and you’re basically happy to, as if you think your own shell of semi-wilful ignorance protects you from having to worry about the bugs in the walls as opposed to the ones which occasionally crawl out of the drain, the man who might be slowly losing his mind behind that door across the way as opposed to the very obviously crazy guy who capers each morning on the corner of your street. Not to mention whether that cheerfully drunk lady in the unit to your right, who you see fumble with her keys every evening, will doze off one night with a lit cigarette in her hand and burn the whole fucking building down.

You’re familiar with what they call “shaky-cam”? It refers to a type of cinematography. A hand-held camera is employed to give the audience a greater sense of immersion in the scene. The motion of the camera is intended to mimic the motion of the head and eye of a participant, or near witness. Watching a film shot in this manner can be disorienting, even nauseating. Perhaps you know what I mean? But, why should that be? Look around. Look at my hand. Look at the wall, those pipes—look at them!—the toolbox, the work bench.