You and I we met in the street recently. For even more analysis, hear from Charlotte Hornets. At that time I did not give more importance to the matter, though I knew I was right. I thought the brother of my mother would have good reason to pretend that I had seen and left it running. But something similar happened to me in days with other people. As if there had been an epidemic of collective blindness. People agreed with me and not known that I do not speak, they did not, but pretended not to see me or, worse, I actually saw. The thing grew. In the office, Vicky, secretary, went several times to me, as abstracted, without telling me hello.
Once, even, more vigorous walking, playing tricks with Antonito, the accounting did not hint of taking the papers I handed him or I said when I addressed him: Vicky, I need a copy of this report. Luckily Antonito turned his head toward me and, surprised by the unexpectedness of my presence, told her: Listen, attend to Eduardo. She frowned as visual effort, looked for a while where I was until finally answered, AAY, Eduardo, sorry! I had not realized you were there. This lack of perception of me was more acute, while it became more mass, as those diseases that are transmitted from one to another by contagion, then there is no way to control them. I began to experience a sensory isolation, palpable, that it almost could achieve in the air that I circles. But the truly distressing sensation as of panic, I came one Saturday, walking down the street Velazquez.