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192 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1928
When us the blind speak about beauty, it doesn’t correspond exactly to what you may think. That’s because we see with our fingers. Unlike beauty as it is commonly known, ours belongs to the realm of the darkness.
What first caught the eye was the confusion of colours, indescribable and highly distressing. Coloured parasites. A discordance of tints. If there existed an arrangement of shades capable of driving a man mad, this is undoubtedly where it would be found. No single colour dominated. Everything seemed to be bathed in a melancholic greyness. Amongst it all shades of colours, like revolting growths, bruises or even clusters of bacteria seen through a microscope, developing in total disorder, writhing about and tangled up in an indescribable chaos. Let us use an easier image to understand: It must have happened to you, at school, to see a skinned animal with all its organs and intestines. Then picture that indefinable and dreadful colour, even greyer, stretched to the extreme, and you will have a small idea of the room’s appearance. (…) In addition, the ground as well as the walls were not at all flat, and as with entrails, their unevenness and the shadows added to the impression these colours were strange and wild...
