I can see but not clearly. Outlines are not sharp. The low sun shines through the window as steam from a pan rises. A form in the shape of Anne moves around the kitchen in front of me, tidying up after breakfast. Classic FM relaxes in the corner. On the table is a fresh cup of tea, a green vase like object holding some cutlery, and a jug of water. The writing on the page is unreadable unless I screw my eyes up or move nearer. The butchers block in the middle of the kitchen has a metallic bowl on it. I am ignorant of its contents.
Although in one sense by not wearing my specs I am removing myself from reality I think I prefer clarity. I have put them back on. Anne is squeezing oranges.