Floating somewhere between my cornea and my retina, suspended in a soluble gel-like substance, and formed within the behind-ness of my two supposedly brown eyes, exists a cloud of flying flies. These are more commonly known as  phosphenes or floaters. 

 

Recently, these small spheres and strings have become a semi-regular reminder that beyond the concave surfaces of both my eyes; entrenched in cavities either side of my nose; lies a dark unfamiliar territory, optically known as the vitreous humor*.

 

I leave my curtains open at night. I do this so the light in the morning can enter. I like to imagine how the earth slowly rotates eastwards and in turn creates a mirage of a rising sun; it climbs up walls and quietly falls through my bedroom windows, carefully tracing every object on the floor until it finally reaches my closed eyes. It rests here, burning brighter and brighter until its weight is heavy enough to permeate into the vitreous; my eyes open simultaneously. This is lights medium; finally reaching its point of absorption. I wake up and light fills the slightly irregular spheres called my eyes, I let through as much as I can digest, then quickly switch my gaze to the ceiling. Above me appears a mobile of scattered, transparent dots and strings; Ancient Greeks explained this phenomena as ‘myodesopsia’, translating as “seeing fly-like corpuscles”. 

 

Much like a winged fly, phosphenes tempt the attention of the eye to try decipher their fleeting and esoteric existence. 

 

After some concentration and research into these entoptic phenomena**, we can begin to notice certain repeated morphological characteristics. Firstly, these small particles of dust and debris*** rely on the presence of light to exist in order to cast their shadows onto the rear of the cornea, resulting in the ghost images in our field of vision. 

 

Other dependable factors for their transient persistence include concentration and distance. The more time you spend looking at a phosphene, the brighter it will become. Similarly, their intensity will inflame the closer you are to a light source. Subordinate to light particles and the eyes of the beholder, these globular clusters of fibrillae blindly follow the eyes gaze as they sink in and out of dark blinks, into a pool of coagulated fluid. 

 

My gaze breaks and I keep my stare. Curiously, the flies don’t abide by this. They continue to sink down into the transparent gel at the rear of my eyes. Perhaps this is osmosis or gravity in force... Blink again and exchange a glance and the flies return in full flight.

 

It is familiar and it is a feeling in the dark.