Darkness is a place now, not just an absence. I live inside it, move through it, have made it my territory. Four years in, and the world is shapes of heat and shadow, outlines against blackness, light that comes not as images but as pain against what's left of my vision. But my fingers have become my eyes – reading the texture of my cell, the microscopic cracks in concrete that map my small domain. My nose has become my warning system – catching scents that tell me when they're coming, ...