Nutshell

 

I'm from Boliva, born there and raised here since the age of 3. My mother tells me i was a very activity child, I haven't changed much.

 

When I was seven years old, I was blinded by a drunk driver. We where dirving and it was raining. I remember hearing the screaching tires and when the car was impacted. I hit mu head againast the car window and passed out. When I woke up in the hospital I could feel my mother and brother  holding my hands, but I couldn't see them. I thought I had bandages on my head. My mother was quietly praying and my brother kept repeating "nothings going to change."

I was then I tried to take the bandages off my head, but i only felt my head and my open eyes. I started asking why can't I see? My mother came up to me and said When I hit my head, the impsct damaged the part of my brain that allows me to see.

I turned to my brother an said " your right we are still the same."A week later I left the hospital and went to a school for the blind. I had to re learn to do everything, and that I was not hopeless. Ther i also dicovered a passion for art. Which was strange because I'd never really been artistic when I could see.