I opened my eyes and at that very moment felt that something was wrong. I shifted restlessly in bed, shaking off the foggy world of dreams while simultaneously trying to piece together reality in my mind. Unlike any other morning, this time some of the pieces didn’t quite fit. Something was definitely wrong…

I threw off the covers and got out of bed, searching for the source of this strange feeling. I looked around—and immediately saw it. I must admit, I was slightly startled. The walls of the bedroom had acquired eyes.

For a while, I stood there staring at the eyes, just as they stared back at me. It was very quiet. Perhaps I was still dreaming. I headed for the bathroom to brush my teeth. I hesitated for a moment before opening the door, then resolutely pressed the handle. Two eyes, positioned right above the toilet bowl, fixed themselves on me. The stains of dirt and dampness on the wall seemed to complete the eyes into some kind of face—a face frozen in a silent scream, like that painting by Munch—you know the one.

I somehow managed to brush my teeth and made my way to the kitchen to prepare breakfast and tea. I wasn’t particularly surprised to find that the walls there, too, were full of eyes. I was already beginning to get used to it.

I buttered two slices of bread with cheese, sprinkled them with red pepper, tried to catch the faded aroma of the tea, and headed for the living room, hoping that at least there I might be able to have breakfast undisturbed by unwanted gazes. But alas…

Evidently, eyes had also grown on the living room walls overnight. They stared and did not blink.

There was nothing to be done. I hastily ate the sandwiches, choking a few times, washing the food down with tea, and hurried to get dressed. I needed to get out into the fresh air!

I walked briskly down the corridor toward the front door… accompanied by countless gazes…

At last… outside! I tried to take a deep breath, but my breath caught. Eyes again! Sprouting from the buildings like skin blisters or tumors—bulging, staring, unblinking. Staring brazenly and shamelessly!

I felt someone’s gaze behind my back. I turned around and…

…saw another endless row of eyes, fixed on me. I felt like crying, but restrained myself. Perhaps because, somehow, I sensed that these eyes could not cry. Which meant neither should I.

I had lost all sense of time. What time was it, anyway? In my rush to escape the apartment, I hadn’t put on my watch, and its absence intensified my feeling of timelessness. There were no clocks visible on the building facades. It was as if the eyes had taken the place of everything else. Clearly, I needed to ask someone. I looked at the passersby, wondering whom to approach. I put on a polite expression and, frozen in a courteous half-pleading, half-smile, waited for someone to meet my gaze. But people seemed not to notice me at all and continued on their way.

I stood there in confusion for a while, wondering whether I was really that unnoticeable. Some time passed before I understood why. The answer, of course, was obvious—but since people tend to see only what they expect, it had literally escaped my sight. The passersby simply had no eyes! Yes—while the walls and buildings had acquired eyes, people had lost their own. They had become blind, without realizing it, because they navigated the world through their preconceived notions, no longer truly seeing it.

Boyan Taksirov

*translated with Chat GPT, illustrations by DALL-E