on Monday, blue objects appear with more intensity in my field of vision, and on Wednesday it’s orange things. Tuesday, I searched high and low for my yellow notebook, the one containing the scientific vocabulary for my translations, in vain. Thursday, I found the notebook on the entryway table: no surprise, it took until the yellow day for that yellow object to appear. It’s as though each day of the week places a filter in front of my eyes—a film roll with its own grain, or a certain sensitivity to light. Each morning, my entire landscape shifts in hue.
