After a usual dose of weekend night cigar, I walked down from the third-floor patio with lights off.
The light on the first floor was on, which of the second floor was not. As I could barely see the brightness flooding from the first, I started to wonder what to do.
My sight is not as good as before thanks to my mid-age crisis, especially in the night; so I had to quickly decide whether I’d try hard to recognize the stairs with eyes or just trust the nerve on my feet.
I closed my eyes although there’s dimmed light, and down I walked following the rhythm of steps.
Sometimes dependence on the combination of limited information and deteriorated sense could cause disaster. So why not just give up on the visible uncertainty and believe in what feels more solid with instinct?