Since I left you I've been preoccupied with my thoughts, and my eyes, that allow me to see what's going on around me, function only partly, so that I'm half blind. I have some vision but it's unfocused because it can't define any form, such as birds, flowers or anything else it lands on. My mind can't grasp anything my eyes show it, nor can my vision retain anything it captures. That's because whatever it sees - the most crude or gentlest sight, the most sweetly-formed or the most deformed creature, the mountain or the sea, the day or the night, the crow or the dove - my vision shapes it to resemble you. Incapable of doing anything else, and filled with your image, my faithful mind makes me see everything unfaithfully.