The shapes that come into view when eyelids, long since closed, open for the first time held a strange appeal to Richard. Lifting his eyelids slowly after slumber, light would seemingly pour in over a valley of unseen structures in the distance as it bent in so many directions, distorting the spectrum of colors over and over again. In this ooze of color and shadow were peaks, splotches, snowflakes, angel wings and water drops, all with a lifespan of less than a second. Soon enough, his eyelids would be far enough apart that his brain could no longer imagine what his eyes were seeing, for they would be dutifully reporting to it the contents of the world around him, recorded in precise color and depth. But not this time.