This tower was a civic project to light downtown San Jose from above. Due to the physics of light, it didn't work well, but it has been relocated to San Jose History Park with a lot of other outdated civic structures of interest. The light was so seeing people, also known as most of us, could see when the sun went down.
Here is a passage from Eavesdropping, a book by a poet and essayist who is blind, The new Georgia Review came today just after my three young granddaughters and their mother left from a two day visit. So I treated myself to a quick lie-on-the-couch to read an interview with Stephen Kuusisto, of whom I had not previously heard, He has been talking about experience, even travel, when you cannot see. Mostly we are looking, looking, looking.
But he is listening: "The music says we are still in love with our tentative thoughts; the heart's arousal is a kindness--nothing more. Outside, sleet strikes at the window, a crow calls from a neighbor's yard. This is the early hour when I can still hear. All feelings are first feelings: the world is not yet constructed. The poplars in fresh snow sway in the January wind."
Notice the movement from interior and subjective thought to description relying on audio input, not visual. It makes the reader snap awake. I haven't read the book yet, but I will.
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