When your existence has been enveloped in darkness, you will learn to listen. You’ll listen to the whistles of the wind and the rustling of the leaves, you’ll hear the footsteps of the people and the movements of the world, and your ears will pick up the whispers of the distant birds and the shuffling of your father’s cards.

When your life has been nothing but the dark, you’ll also learn to feel. Sometimes you’ll ditch your shoes just to feel the rough patchwork of a mat or the moist bearings of the grass. You’ll use your hands to touch the things around you, like the smooth rusted surface of metal pipes and the detailed precision of a key. Other times, you’ll stand in the rain and let it wash away the beauty and sins you’ve learned with your skin.

And when you have seen nothing but black and the psychedelic colors in your mind, you will never take your nose for granted. It breathes the air for you, but it also paints your world. You will smell everything that there is to smell, like the croissants from the boulangerie downtown and your laundered uniforms. You will also distinguish people from their scents and notice how your grandmother is like yellow tulips or how your best friend resembles polished mahogany.

So when your eyes are deprived of function, you will learn to see by taste. You dissect your food as a doctor does his patient, by resting them on your tongue and letting the flavors dissolve. You can tell if your mother is sad when her soup is too salty and you love the texture of scrambled eggs as they tickle your mouth. You will distinguish the pizza next door from the one three blocks away. You will taste love and arrogance with your tongue, as everyone else perceives them by their judging eyes.