My eyes have taken on rosey fractals. I can't see the scenery with my sunglasses on and the sand acts like sand flying into my eyes off trucks and trees and other stationary moving objects. I don't think it's from stress, but certain things appear more, like, in another dimension. This field was so orange it looked like I was on drugs. I wasn't. It was more orange than candy or coloring or any other marigold field I've ever seen. And some things are just like that. They are too vivid. And my eyes are still irritated, and I can't feel my left pinky, and I wasn't quite sure where those kids went that I met in Monterey. The Marigolds are orange. The feeling eventually comes back to the hands. I met them again outside of Santa Barbara.
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