flâneur

This Old Man | The New Yorker

newyorker.com · 5,105 words · saved by 1 readers

“I know how lucky I am, and secretly tap wood, greet the day, and grab a sneaky pleasure from my survival at long odds.”

Save this story Save this story Check me out. The top two knuckles of my left hand look as if I’d been worked over by the K.G.B. No, it’s more as if I’d been a catcher for the Hall of Fame pitcher Candy Cummings, the inventor of the curveball, who retired from the game in 1877. To put this another way, if I pointed that hand at you like a pistol and fired at your nose, the bullet would nail you in the left knee. Arthritis. Now, still facing you, if I cover my left, or better, eye with one hand, what I see is a blurry encircling version of the ceiling and floor and walls or windows to our right

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