Every eye slides round to that dark archway.
My eye slides off these paintings, for all their slivers of patterning, those generous pinched and furled quantities of colour.
Looking at Riley is also an encounter with the activity of your own perceptions: the way a curve will torque and twist, the bright penumbras flickering at the edge between two simultaneously contrasting colours, the way sensory overload forces attention away from one moment in a painting to another, the way colours wince and blink as your eye slides across a surface.
"Yes," replied Bush, smile fading and his eyes sliding downwards.
The Frenchman Christophe Lemaitre, stiff-backed and eyes sliding from side to side, the most nervous.
I scanned quickly, eyes sliding back and forth across the pages, reading paragraphs, excerpts, lists: I'm acting weird.
And when people read about it the next day, looking to see whom they ought to blame, they'll see a phrase like "express advocacy" or "coordinated expenditure restrictions" and find their eyes sliding over to the weather report.
In "Leah Goldberg Died," a tribute to a poet of an earlier generation who championed his work, the hollow of an eye socket easily becomes the hollow of a grave: Her sad eyes are the only ones that could compete with my father's eyes in the ancient Jewish game of heavy eyes sliding into hollows beneath.
He wanted to say, "You could never find anything, could you, do you want me to hold your things like I used to, your makeup, your cigarettes?" She handed him a couple of coins, her eyes sliding over him without recognising him, kind-hearted and distant.
Verl was a trash rancher, Wyatt Match said, oyster eyes sliding around behind his gold-rimmed lenses that darkened in sunlight, and not so much because Verl's land was overgrazed but because there were fences down and gates hanging by one hinge, binder twine everywhere and rusting machinery in the pastures.
