Status Updates From El hombre que confundió a s...

When I drew her attention to this, she said, “Left/right. Right/left. Why the fuss? What’s the difference? You could call them enantiomorphs of each other. But they mean nothing to me. They’re no different for me. Hands…Doctors…Sisters,” she added, seeing my puzzlement. “Don’t you understand? They mean nothing—nothing to me. Nothing means anything! …at least to me.”

And with this, no feeling that he has lost feeling (for the feeling he has lost), no feeling that he has lost the depth, that unfathomable, mysterious, myriad-leveled depth which somehow defines identity or reality.