Scientists at the University of Southern California, Los Angeles, have implanted video cameras in the impaired eyes of a group of blind volunteers, giving them back their sight. The resolution of their new view of things is 16 pixels, sufficient to make out a car, a lamppost, or a wastepaper basket. 1,000 pixels was originally thought the minimum requirement, so they were amazed when the blind people reported being able to see relatively well at just 16 pixels. The scientists were neglecting something: we all have what is called a physical “blind spot” through which we see nothing, so that the brain, as a reflex, fills in what is supposed to be there: we make it up, in other words, and we are usually right. This is what allows us to see a house in its entirety through overhanging tree branches or, in a race featuring thousands of people, to have a sense of where a certain person is throughout the course of the race, though he or she is at times obscured. And it is why 16 pixels are enough for the blind volunteers: the imagination supplies the rest. Our eyes include a point that invents it all, shows that the metaphor constitutes the brain itself, puts things in a poetic order. This “blind point” ought more accurately to be called a “poetry-maker point.” Equally, in the great eye that each and every one of our lives finally constitutes, there are dark spots, points we cannot see, and that we reconstruct imaginarily by way of an artifact we call “memory.” This could be where the other dimensions are hidden, ghosts and specters we fail to perceive but that wander the earth waiting to emerge out of someone building a metaphor in this very blind spot.