The Blind Man and the Painter

A story on a windy hill.

On an ordinary yet clear day, a blind man struggles to make it on top of a small hill. As he reached the top, he sat down under the shade of an oak tree. He felt the calming embrace of the wind and laid his head on the tree’s trunk. It was not before long did a young man arrive on top of the hill as well. He carried with him an empty wooden canvas, paintbrushes, and different colors of paint.

 

“Hello, mister!” the young man greeted with glee and a wave. The blind man just smiled and just simply nodded his head. The young painter felt that the man wanted some peace so he went ahead and set up his art materials. After preparing, the painter closed his eyes and breathed in the fresh air. Then he dipped his thick brush in the paint and colored the canvas to his delight.

 

The blind man heard the stroke of the brush that sounded like the whistling of leaves.

 

“What are you painting there?” the blind man asked.

 

“I’m painting the world, sir.” Replied the young man as he continues to bring life to the canvas.

 

“Oh, I see. That’s very nice.” Said the blind man and went back under the shade of the tree.

 

The painter stopped for a while and stared at his work deeply and stared at the tree. He continued to paint once again.

 

“Mister, what is it like to see nothing?” asked the young man.

 

“Much different from those who can see everything.” He said.

 

“But isn’t it lonesome for you to see nothing but the black?”

 

The blind man gave a little old laugh.

 

“No, it is not lonely for me. The world just wants me to go beyond more than just seeing. That is a beautiful painting of this tree, young man. It brings back memories.”

 

The young man looked surprised at the blind man who had no clue about his painting of the tree with a man happily painting by its side.