
At that time, nothing like that had ever happened to me before. It was a totally new sensation, but not one I cared to explore further.

Fortunately there were benches along the foyer of this theatre, and inside the auditorium it was too dark to see the carpet. Between benches in the foyer, I had to choose between walking around with my eyes closed, staring straight up at the ceiling, or using my hands to shield myself from the sight of the carpet.

Last summer, my mother bought me a shirt that has a similar effect on me. And as a cheapskate (when it comes to clothes), I don't throw away a perfectly good shirt until it is more hole than garment. Nevertheless, I have to be careful not to wear that shirt to work or in other contexts where I need to concentrate. When I do wear it, I try not to catch a glimpse of myself (shoulders, upper arms, etc.), even out of the corner of my eye. Especially out of the corner of my eye. The pattern of tiny light-blue and dark-blue checks makes my eyes swim. Or rather, the pattern itself swims around, making me feel dizzy and, at times, nauseous.

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