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It occurs to me that the difference between my reaction and your reaction to new lenses is my protanopia (Van Gogh eyes). I already saw more blue in the world. Blue can be bleak, but there are perhaps sterner joys in that end of the spectrum. There are blue angels too, less gregarious than other angels. Solitudes. Madness. Maybe Van Gogh's trouble came in part because he lived in the Blue World. She's a difficult lover. Grief is giving you a deep massage, as Tim Morton might say. Relax into it.