Here is the glimpse of conversation between the boy and the old man from the play "On the Face of It" by Susan Hill:
Boy: Why haven't you got any curtains?
Old Man: Curtains? Oh, I don't want curtains. I like to see out.
Boy: But people can see in.
Old Man: Well, let them. What does it matter? I like to see the sky and the trees. I like to know what's going on out there. I like the light. I like natural light. And the dark, too. I like natural darkness.
Boy: But you can't see.
Old Man: Oh, can't I? What do you know about it?
Boy: I'm not blind.
Old Man: No. No, you're not.
Boy: What happened to you?
Old Man: Acid. I was working with acid.
Boy: Was it an accident?
Old Man: Yes.
Boy: Did it hurt?
Old Man: Oh, it hurt all right.
Boy: I'm sorry.
Old Man: You're sorry? Why should you be sorry?
Boy: It must be horrible to be blind.
Old Man: No. No, it's not. Not for me. I've had time to get used to it.
Boy: Why haven't you got any curtains?
Old Man: Curtains? Oh, I don't want curtains. I like to see out.
Boy: But people can see in.
Old Man: Well, let them. What does it matter? I like to see the sky and the trees. I like to know what's going on out there. I like the light. I like natural light. And the dark, too. I like natural darkness.
Boy: But you can't see.
Old Man: Oh, can't I? What do you know about it?
Boy: I'm not blind.
Old Man: No. No, you're not.
Boy: What happened to you?
Old Man: Acid. I was working with acid.
Boy: Was it an accident?
Old Man: Yes.
Boy: Did it hurt?
Old Man: Oh, it hurt all right.
Boy: I'm sorry.
Old Man: You're sorry? Why should you be sorry?
Boy: It must be horrible to be blind.
Old Man: No. No, it's not. Not for me. I've had time to get used to it.