Type B, Not Type A

Wednesday, February 4th, 2015

What's it like to see in shapes? To organize buildings by the blocks of materials on their facades? To make sense out of the structures on the street? What's it like to hear in music? To read in rhythms? To twiddle your toes to the beat of the morning train's platform? 

What's it like to touch with tenderness? To balance bubbles in the tub and feel their static froth? What's it like to smell in memories? What's it like to know not only what you feel, but how you feel it? What's it like not only to identify the feeling of 'longing', but to feel it in your chest, down, down, pinching your ribcage, catapulting into your organs, and diving into your blood's stream?

Is this numbness, now, or am I moving on? What's it like to know the difference? It's better, I imagine, than this.

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