Touch Less

It’s easy not to see. To drive by, glance around a room, to put my head down, and not see. Noticing, really watching, takes effort. Yet vision is the sense I value the most. Or, is it the sensation I can relate to without being challenged?

I hear you ask, “How are you?” and without missing a beat I can reply with a superficial response. I can listen to your story and ignore the questions I have based on the gap between what you say and what you do.

 

I can sit in an elegant restaurant and enjoy the meal without knowing all the ingredients. Hungry from a long hike I can eat half my meal without even tasting the food.

Fragrant blooms will not stop me as I race to be on time. Consideration for the planting and cultivation is lost to the desire to be responsible.

The signs, I noticed the signs, “Watch for Motorcycles”. My appetite vanished, the odor of the hot pavement became meaningless, the silence of the busy road dominated, and the sight of the gathering formed a stone in my gut.

 

 

There were descriptions of carelessness, of a dangerous traffic intersection. The ability of an individual to sense another individual was lost and in a matter of minutes, seconds, the sense of touch was lost forever.

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