Fortunately, in today's advanced technology, as long as you want, the rest is only technical work.
For example, the secretary recites the alphabet formed according to the frequency of letter usage, ESARINTUL OMDPCFBV HGJQZYXKW... He blinks to confirm each letter, and blinks twice as a space to end the spelling of the word. In the two years after his illness, Ball used his only moving left eye to write a spiritual journey.
What I admire even more is how he can, as he said, figure out what he wants to say the next day the night before, and then write it down to the beautiful female secretary in one go. Living alone and being silent for a long time, it is difficult for me to express it coherently. All ideas are just fragments, presented at the beginning of the paragraph formation, then decorated, later deployed, and then moistened, and finally displayed. Of course, this does not include writing papers and reports, those words that are so rational that they don't need soul injection. And Ball, how did he organize all the words and sentences in the belly draft, frame the main body of the article, and firmly memorize it? Or what technology did they use to achieve paragraph adjustment?
This is really something I can't understand.
When I was a child, I heard from my mother, who studied medicine, that after the tracheotomy, it is difficult for people to live longer. So whenever Bauer's throat with a tube appears in the picture, I can't stop worrying. His time is short, but he does not live by inertia. He was racing against fate, not silent breathing. He can move his head a little when chasing flies on the bridge of his nose; when he listens to his lover's phone, he hums excitedly; when his throat spews foam and makes a noise, it is fatal pneumonia.
As Ball's 92-year-old father put it: "You're locked in your body, I'm locked in an apartment." The reality of life can easily be imprisoned by a force, or imprisoned by the loss of a force. But the soul can fly on its wings with the help of imagination and memory.
A former lover of mine said that he will never lose his freedom: for the freedom of the heart is never bound to the wolf. I told him that the real beasts never knew that there was still freedom of heart, they would only stand on the hills and sing and run in the wilderness. Only captive animals will hold the last freedom of the heart. The soul is such a tangle, it soars and jumps like a phosphorous fire in a summer night, but in broad daylight there is no trace.
Because if not lost, it is always difficult for people to cherish the treasures they already have, such as freedom of movement or a healthy body.
I have a good friend who once dreamed of being a rock star, but unfortunately his singing is worse than chanting. Because he can only hear sounds of more than one hundred decibels, so he can only collect two or three five tones. He lost most of his hearing before he learned to speak. After his mother found out, she confronted him every day and let him watch her talk. He taught me to look into each other's eyes, focus and respect when toasting. Just like Bauer and his recorder, communication is not only listening, but also needing to look at each other and open their respective spiritual windows.
Now, he is using the eyes he has always relied on, and the hands he has never spoken to, to capture the moment that brings him enlightenment. I have experienced the power of life from him, and I believe that he will definitely become a master photographer. Because he is focused and persistent.
Like the once charismatic and energetic Bauer, when all the voluntary movements at his disposal are concentrated in only one left eye, his stagnant torso runs the power that life has held since the beginning of the universe.
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