I take a step forward, the morning breeze brushes against my face as I inhale the fresh scent of nature. The sun is warm on my skin and I smile at the openness that is in front of me, I then let out an exhale. Tapping sounds follow each of my footsteps as I walk, the sound of wood on the ground. As I take another step, I stop as the sound of wood hits something and echos in my ear. I sigh and turn my body slightly and continue walking, the tapping of wood following me. It's been 3 years since then, 2 years since I last saw colors of the world around me. Now I see nothing, my lost of sight has finally caught up to me as the doctors said, I'm 27 now and everyday is still a challenge despite losing my vision last year. Since my father taught me how to make things, I have carved myself a wooden walking stick before the colors of emptiness took over. I have carved a butterfly onto the top of the walking stick, my mother told me long ago that the butterfly symbolizes transformation, the butterfly also symbolizes the myth and art which has become a part of me. Now everywhere that I go, I use the walking stick to help guide me and help go on the right direction. I'm still pretty new to this, but I'm slowly getting the hang of it. Life moves on, I can't be stuck in a world that was. Although I can't see anymore, but I can still feel, smell, touch and hear and I suppose that is enough. Although my sight is gone but it did not diminish my artistic talents, because I have never really relied on my sight to draw a person. I am still the "Blindfolded Artistic Butterfly" that everyone knows, it's just that now I am truly blind. I have widened my spectrums and started to draw pictures by a person's description, I was never good at those, but after that day from the challenge by Inuyasha, I have realized that with practice, I can do it. People come to me to draw them pictures and people daily, it makes me happy to know that people appreciate the beauty of art.

"Are there any ways for the doctors to help regain your sight somehow?" The voice of the mother of the son that I draw every year echos in my ear.

"The doctors tried, but they said that there's nothing that they can do, if it was an accident or some sort, then perhaps it could be fixed. Unfortunately, it's a genetic thing that developed over time. There's nothing that they can do." I reply back to her as I feel my eyes travelling around in the emptiness as I turn to the direction of her voice.

The charcoal in my hand moves across the smooth rice paper as I draw out the line of the mouth, the mother and her son has come by for another year of a portrait sketch. As I felt his face earlier, he has matured. His facial features feels more defined, no longer a child. It just tells me that time has passed and this is reality, I smile as I hear the light scratching of the charcoal moving across the surface.

"I see, but nonetheless, you're still the beautiful and talented___________, the "Artistic Butterfly" that you are. Life must be hard for you right now since everything is still foreign but I can promise you that it will become better if you just focus on the good." She tells me.

I feel her hand resting on my arm gently, it's soothing, almost like a motherly comfort. I nod in response as my eyes glazes over the space in front of me. I finish the sketch along with the shading of the dark and light, though I can't see, I can still feel. The charcoal over the paper has a different texture, a dusty feeling, it allows me to keep track of where I am on the paper. I take it off my wooden easel and hold it out towards the direction that I assume is where the mother is standing. I feel the paper slipping out of my hand, the rustling of the paper filling my ears.

"Lovely and perfect as always. I have never lost my faith in your work," She says with admiration in her voice.

In these few years, I have learned to decipher how a person is feeling by the tone of their voice and how they speak their words. Yes, she said that she admires my work, but she is telling the truth. Her tone of voice is lively and has a joyful rhythm to it, her words feel controlled and reinforced. Usually, we would look at the the person's expressions to see how they feel, but I have learned to see from their voices. I smile at her words and appreciation, She then hold my hand and opens it up upwards, she then places a few cool objects into my hands, coins as the clinking sounds fills my ears.

"Thank you for your years of hard work, I hope the colors of the world will fill your vision in the near future." A young and mature voice of a male says to me.

"Thank you, and I hope that you will continue to grow into a handsome young man as the years go by." I reply back to him.

The voice belongs to the son, I take a deep breath and turn my head up towards the sky.

"What's wrong?" She asks me.

"I kind of want to leave the village, go out and feel the openness of the land. Feel the wind brush against my face and draw out what I can hear and feel. I suppose the only thing that is preventing me from going through with this decision is that of my disability." I answer her.

"We understand, it feels a bit suffocating doesn't it? Then go for it, follow what your heart tells you and go, but please, look out for yourself. Fear shouldn't keep you from taking a step into a possible future. Our eyes is our most important sense, for you, you can only rely on the other 4. Use them to help you get through everyday, stay safe and stay you. Hope that when you come back, you will become an even greater artist. Sometimes, a disability can be a gift." She tells me.

"I will, thank you for giving me the push. You're right, life is filled with ups and downs, but it shouldn't keep us down or keep us from staying in one spot. I won't allow my blindness from keeping me here for the rest of my life, I will live out my life." I reply back with a smile.

"Good. We shall be going now." She replies back to me.

She gives me a warm hug and she and her son leaves, their footsteps fading as they walk further and further away. I put my charcoal stick back in the wooden box and put away my easel, I then pick up my butterfly walking stick and head back home. I have been saving up some money for a while now, hoping that one day I can use them to help expand my horizon. The wooden stick click clacks on the ground as I tap it to the sync of my steps, If I'm going to leave, I'll leave tomorrow, I'll let the wind take me wherever it may be. The village is my home since I was young, but I can't always stay home, I want to start a new. There's nothing for me here anymore I feel. I can feel the nature of the earth and perhaps earn some money by doing street art in villages, I smile at the thought of what could be waiting for me the moment I exit out the village. On the way home, I buy some art supplies, charcoal sticks and paper. I also buy a strap so that I can strap my art supplies onto my back or waist, after all of that are done with I head home to rest. I make a simple dinner for myself and head to bed, I place my wooden walking stick against the wall and I slide into my single futon. My eyes moves around as I feel the soft and coolness of the silk covers, I can hear the crickets chirping outside in a quiet lullaby and I know that it's time for me to end the day off. There's no point for me to light candles, because all I see is emptiness, no light and no darkness. I close my eyes anyway, just like how I use to when I could see everything. I let out an exhale, this is my life, I don't resent my father for giving me this genetic disability. I'm thankful to both of my parents for giving me the alternatives and skills to carry on when things are hard. I clear out my mind and let the quietness that surrounds me lull me into a slumber, when I come to, I can feel the warm sunlight shining through from my window. It touches my face and wakes me up, I open my eyes but there's no light to indicate that it's morning. Only the warmth of the sun can tell me that, I stretch and get up, I fold up my futon and place it against the corner of the room, I place my hands on the cool wooden walls that surrounds me as it give me a support. I follow the walls to where I placed my walking stick, with the tapping of the wood on wood, I start my day like usual. I eat breakfast and change into my kimono, I pack up my art supplies and strap them to my back. The rolling of the paper puts eagerness and anticipation in my heart, I also strap in place a wooden container that holds water onto my back as well. I tuck in the small sack of money into my kimono as I get ready to leave the house, and leave the village. I put on my sandals, the rustling of my kimono and the friction of my sandals and the wooden floorboard fills the room. I turn around and place my hand on the wall again as I roam the space in front of me with my eyes, I smile.

"I'll be back, hope that the place won't change while I'm away. Then again, I won't be able to tell would I?" I say with a light hearted chuckle.

With that, I close the door to my house and I turn around. The art supplies on my back shifts as I walk, it's not too heavy but it does put a bit of weight on me. The gravel underneath my sandals crunches as I walk, my arm moves in front of me as the walking stick acts as an extension of my arm. I feel my eyes moving as I walk and as I listen to the sounds around me, birds chirping above and the sounds of people out in the streets. How lively, but I'll be away from them for a while, I hope the world outside will be just as lively. Some people that knows me greets me as I walk by, the sounds of children's laughter fills the streets and in my ears. After a few minutes, the sounds finally starts to die down. With the help of some villagers, I finally found the exit. As I stand at the entrance, thoughts begin to emerge in my mind. I could never find my way back here again if I leave, but would I really mind? I clench my left hand into a ball and I bite my lower lips, a place that I called home for all my life I could never step back into the entrance again because I will lose my way without my eyes. I then feel the gentleness of the morning breeze brushing against my arm and face, carrying the stray strands of my hair around me. I'll be fine, because I have courage. My remaining 4 senses will help me, they will direct me into the right direction, I have come this far in this decision, I shouldn't back down. I close my eyes and give myself a mental push, I then open my eyes again to the space in front of me that I know is the open plains. With my walking stick in my hand I take the first step into the outside world. The sound of rustling leaves and the chirping of the birds guides me forward as I walk on the gravelled road that leads to the unknown, I don't know what lies ahead but I'm not afraid. I feel alive out here in the open, I can smell the fresh grass after a quiet night, the air filling up my lungs everytime that I breathe, why didn't I do this sooner? It's a whole new experience, and it's a beautiful experience that only I can give myself. As I walk I would occasionally stop and listen, the whoosh of the high winds feels soothing. As an artist, you have to let your imagination run free. I touch the ground beneath my feet and my surroundings, the blades of grass sifts through my fingers one by one. I would sit down in the open plains and take out my charcoal and paper, I then draw out what I have touched and what I would assume lies beyond the horizon. I didn't care if my drawing turned out into something completely different because this is all so new to me. I feel the warmth of the sun changing bit by bit telling me that a day is coming to an end soon, I have come upon some villagers from a nearby town and they guided me back so that I can have a place to stay for the night. The first day goes by smoothly, I took the evening to stroll around town and getting familiar with it. I stocked up on some art supplies from art stalls, I have done some sketches for some villagers who were curious to see my art. Soon enough the day ends, and I close my eyes into completely nothingness again. I have spent and I have earned, it was enough for me. The next day I continued on my solo travel, the endless sounds of nature's beauty accompanies me once again. As I listened to the rhythmic breezes of the cool wind, I realized that although I'm blind, I still travelled quite far since yesterday. How wonderful, when there is a single path, you can't get lost if you just follow it. Like yesterday, I travelled and I drew. I drew the trees, the sky and the mountains in the distance that lines the horizon that separates the blue sky and green earth. Each drawing is different, an artwork can never be recreated exactly like the first one. That, is what makes art beautiful and a wonder. My walking stick clacks on the ground as I walk, the warmth of the sun has diminished telling me that evening is coming. I need to find a place to rest, unfortunately, I don't seem to feel any signs of civilization nearby, perhaps the next village is another day away? Although the sun is setting but the night isn't cold, I turn slightly to the side, off the main road and into the grass. I walk in an angle, because that way I am still heading towards the right path but as I continue I'll be walking to the side as well. I'm hoping that there will be a tree nearby, and yes there is. My walking stick has hit something hard, I knock on it a few times, a solid tack tack sound fills the space around me. I put my hands out and I touch the surface, it's rough and dry, I immediately know that it's a tree by my memory of what a tree feels like. I untie my things from my back and I slide down the tree trunk with my hands as support, I sit down on the soft grass. I take off my outer layer of my kimono and I drape it over myself as a cover and I lay my head on the stack of rolled up rice papers, thus serving as my pillow. No fire is needed since I won't be able to see anyway, I feel my eyes wondering around as I listened. The chirping of crickets occupies the plains not far away, how calming. It's my own beating heart and the serene feeling that surrounds me, and eventually it carries me into sleep. I open my eyes, nothing. But like always, I can feel the the warm sun shining down. I sit up and stretch, a bit uncomfortable to be sleeping outside but it's a first for everything and I enjoy the nature around me. I feel the cool morning grass beneath until I find my walking stick, I place it on my lap and I slide my arms into the sleeves of my kimono, the silk fabric glides along my hands feel so nice. The large roll of paper didn't dent at all, thank goodness. I stand up with the support of the large tree trunk, I inhale deeply. How fresh the air is.

"Another day of exploring." I say to myself with a smile.

I strap my art supplies onto my back, I then turn to the direction that the path leads to and I walk through the tall grass, the rustling of each blade of grass echos through the vast field. After walking for a while, I can hear the faint sound of flowing water in the distance. I turn my body towards the sound, I smile as I hear the sound of something else besides the wind. With my walking stick in front of me I head to where the sound is coming from, as I close the distance the flow of the water becomes more evident, the grass on the ground has slowly shifted into a hard surface with small pebbles. The rush of the sound and the chirping of the birds above makes the area sound so celestial, so different. I begin to wonder what the ocean would feel like and sound like. The tack tack sound my wooden stick makes on the rocky ground soon disappears, and I know that I'm at the edge of the stream. The sound of flowing water is just in front of me, I bend down and place my hand in the water, I slowly descend my fingers in, at first I don't feel it but then it hits me, the coolness of the liquid, it flows against my fingers and sifts pass the spaces. How refreshing it feels, I place my whole hand in it and I close my eyes. My body shivers slightly at the coolness as I indulge my mind in this moment, letting my sense of feel take over, the sun is warm, I suppose I could take a quick wash. I stand up and I untie the art supplies from my back and place it on the ground, I then place my walking stick beside it and then I shed my kimono. I walk to the edge of the stream and I step in slowly, when my foot touches the bottom, I can feel the small pebbles at the sole of my foot. It's slightly painful but it's tolerable, I then lower my body into the stream, goosebumps rises on my skin. I lean back against the edge and I close my eyes, how relaxing. I inhale and exhale, I run my hand along my bare arms and body as I let the flowing water cleanse me. After a while I get out and dress myself, I continue on with my travel. I can feel the heat of the sun slowly changing, becoming warmer thus telling me that it's afternoon when the sun is the warmest. I sit down in the grass after a while and I take out a piece of paper and my charcoal stick, I begin to draw out the stream, and the trees that surrounds the area. I get up and begin to walk again, my walking stick swishes in the grass as I move it around giving me a grasp of what is in front of me. As I walk further, I begin to sense something big in front, no sooner, my walking stick hits something unexpected. Tack tack sound again, as I tap my stick against it, the force causes vibration to flow through my hand. I retreat my stick and put my hands out, I slowly move forward, and my hands comes in with rough surface. As I move my hand around I realize that it's a tree trunk.

"A Tree? By itself in the field? When all the others are in the forest? Peculiar." I say to myself.

I shrug and turn away from the tree, I walk away, after a few seconds my walking stick accidentally pokes into the soft ground and it forces itself out of my hand and lands in the grass . Wonderful, I bend down and feel the grass for the walking stick, no sooner the surface of smooth wood is felt. I pick it up ad sure enough it is my walking stick, I get up and begin to walk forward. It should be a straight path through the field, I should be fine for a few seconds. I have to find the top of my walking stick and turn it upright, The wind is pretty strong here I realized, it whooshes across the field preventing me from hearing properly of my surroundings.

"Where is this place?" I ask myself curious.

I continue walking a bit more, but I can hear something behind me in the distant. It seems kind of muffled. The rustling of the grass and wind makes it hard to decipher what that distant sound is. I focus my concentration on it but I continue walking, I turn my head slightly so that my left ear faces the back, I squint my brows as I focus.

"Stop walking!"

It's a voice, its sharp and it sounds concerned by the tone. It's a voice of a man, a young man. Before my brain can comprehend what the person said, my body unconsciously takes one more step. I gasp as I feel my foot fall through empty space and my body lurches as I loses balance and falls forward.