I can't see long distance very well with my left eye. My right eye does all the work and every now and then I'll shut my right eye to test just how much worse my left eye has gotten. As of now, I can make out words about seven feet away.

In the summer of 2015, I went to rural East Flanders for two weeks as a writer in residence. I spent my time practicing natural eyesight improvement techniques in the flat sun-drenched landscape banking on the change of scenery would generate some poems.

I used my Nikon FM2 to test out any progress that might've been made with my left eye. It was difficult to focus with my left eye, it took so long sometimes that I'd take breaks between shots.

It reminded me of the advice my mom would give to my brother and I when we were young to look out of the window between stretches of homework. It reminded me of the shock of the bright lights after spending a long time in the darkroom.

The newly awkward weight of the camera in my left hand made me unsure of my grasp, yet it was thrilling to see the landscape in this slow doubting way. Whenever I brought my left eye to the viewfinder, I felt as if I was discovering photography for the first time.