Corner of St. Laurent and Marie-Anne.

South Asian male, 20s, dark bushy hair, green t-shirt, khakis, sneakers, black bag. Walking and reading.

Blindness, José Saramago (Harcourt Brace & Co)

Page 25:

…it is here, she discreetly knocked on the door, ten minutes later she was naked, fifteen minutes later she was moaning, eighteen minutes later she was whispering words of love that she no longer needed to feign, after twenty minutes she began to lose her head, after twenty-one minutes she felt that her body was being lacerated with pleasure, after twenty-two minutes she called out, Now, now, and when she regained consciousness she said, exhausted and happy, I can still see everything white.

Night. Waxing moon. Sound of whippoorwills.
Romana (breathlessly): My goodness.
Noveline: They used to say some things would make you go blind.

Saleema Nawaz

Southbound University Line at Museum

Black male, late 20s, wearing black overcoat, blue dress shirt, black dress pants, and tan leather shoes.

Blindness, José Saramago (Harcourt)

Page 62:

The wounded man gave a despondent sigh, and once more could feel the pain piercing through his flesh. The doctor said, Stay here, I’ll go, I’m coming with you, said his wife. Just as they were about to leave the ward, a man who had come from the other wing, inquired, Who is this fellow, the reply came from the first blind man, He’s a doctor, an eye-specialist, That’s a good one, said the taxi driver, just our luck to end up with the one doctor who can do nothing for us, We’re also landed with a taxi driver who can’t take us anywhere, replied the girl with dark glasses sarcastically.

This morning’s episode came after he’d turned too quickly, a sharp pain building in his chest, a thousand tiny ants crawling over his scalp. The edges bled in a shimmering whiteness that circled toward his vision’s epicentre, the top button of his wife’s shirt the last thing he’d see.