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As the eyes align, so does the heart.

(vi. sheep friendship)

When I open my eyes, the Doctor is still there. I don’t know how long I have slept, how many minutes I have stolen from this world of eyes and given back to my dreams.

I look at the Doctor’s face. Clearly, there is something troubling her. She is anxious when I nap during the day. She is apprehensive before leaving me to sleep for the night. For some reason, the Doctor wants me to keep my eyes open as much as possible. At least, I suspect, as much as she does.

"You used to look at me often," she utters finally. She stammers as she says this, her gaze lost on the calendar on the opposite wall. "You would say I had beautiful eyes."

With every word she tells me, I wonder more about what exactly it is the Doctor sees. The Doctor can be so strange, even at her most sympathetic. Sometimes it seems that we are two strangers looking at the same thing. But more often we are like two intimates staring off in opposite directions. I would love to look at the Doctor’s eyes. But like always, she has quickly turned them away from me.

"Excuse me," the Doctor says rushing out of the room, "there must be something in my eye."

This is a poor apology. How can the Doctor and I ever connect without using our eyes? I have tried in my dreams, but the Doctor I meet there is not entirely the same as the one in front of me now. In this world of eyes, I must learn to see things differently. I must try my hardest, if only for the Doctor’s sake.

I could learn something from sheep, I suppose. Of all the animals, the sheep know best how to use their eyes to further friendship. If I could teach this to the Doctor, I am sure we could be better friends. After all, sheep show friendship in a much more vivid way than people do.

vi. sheep friendship
vi. sheep friendship
The love is in the massive weight, the distant gaze between two sheep together. But you can’t see it. And for that, maybe, it’s beautiful.

Sheep show friendship with their eyes. Love is in the eyes. But you can’t see it exactly. When they look together, when they look at each other. The love is in the massive weight, the distant gaze between two sheep together. But you can’t see it. And for that, maybe, it’s beautiful.

Sheep don’t stare at each other because of hate. It’s not distrust. Sheep are not human. Of course they do stare intently. But their intent, the only intent they have, is friendship. Their eyes lock fixedly, like a constellation: four burning eyes from heaven moving silently through night. Together in formation, together in love. As the eyes align, so does the heart.

At night the eyes do not stop, the friendship continues. Sheep watch movies in the dark. They see romances and comedies on the screens of their eyelids. They seek intermission and repose in the blinks between scenes. And the sheep are laughing. Always, they laugh with their eyes.

Sometimes, to be sure, the sheep laugh at us, too. Because people used to be like sheep. People used to use their eyes. But today, no one bothers to see their friends unless their busy schedules and appointment books happen to coincide. Sometimes they don’t even say, "I’m so happy to see you!" although you know they must be thinking it. Instead, people use apologies instead of eyes. They can find enough excuses with their words that they even don’t have to remember your birthday anymore, they can forget to call you back. They don’t need to look at you at all. It is much easier to apologize than it is to remember, it seems.

The sheep don’t understand how people can be friends if they never take the time to see each other, to look into one another’s eyes. "They cover their nakedness with words," the sheep whisper. "People use us to cover their bodies. They use us to cover their hearts. Really, they just cover their eyes." And you can’t have friendship, true friendship, without eyes.

Sheep have a common expression – with their eyes. It says: "If I tell you, ‘You are beautiful to me,’ I hope that it means more to you than when you hear, ‘You are beautiful,’ because, to me, there is only one way to look beautiful."

The Doctor has returned. I tell her about the sheep’s celebrated expression. She sighs and scribbles something in her files. Maybe it doesn’t translate.

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