One day, far away from home, I walked along the hot, humid streets of the unfamiliar city and saw, in my left eye, a shower of spots floating around, and moving along as I moved the pupil. Although it worried me, I did not bother to look up what was the matter with me until that evening, back in my campus room, when, as I was staring at the tennis court outside, a little explosion had appeared underneath the centre of my vision. Several internet sites all said the same: a crack had formed in the retina allowing vitreous fluid to seep through, so that the retina was now tearing itself loose, like wallpaper, and in the best likelihood I had only a few days left to live. In that case I might as well go to bed, I thought. Staring at the festival of spots and little explosions on the ceiling, it was strange to think that soon there would be nothing left of me.