Today I bought some eyeglasses. They were expensive. Doctor Robertson was very quick and thorough. No nonsense, no extraneous questions. Didn't seem to notice evidence of scratched cornea, but what did that matter? He told me I'd be amazed at being able to see individual leafs. When I walked out the store I stood and stared across the parking lot, the houses on the hills, the formerly indistinct trees now shaded with minutely detailed leaves. The impressionist blur I like so much in my photos was gone, replaced with a sharped-edged clarity I found exciting, able to read signs far away, a passing truck with "Hamburg" lettered on its side. The woman who fitted my lenses--a binocular device to determine distance between my eyes, a single dot from a magic marker on the lens to see where my pupil rests--said she wants to start a photography business. She shoots engagements but never weddings. Maybe receptions but portraits no way. As she rang me up I showed her my Kodak, 31,000 shots in three years and instant gratification. I showed her this shot across the counter, her face a blur in the small review window on the back of the camera. "Ask me" her ribbon read. "Your glasses will be ready at 2:40," she said. I signed my receipt. "See you later!"