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Show 15 "Very funny." "God is punishing you, Hunt." "Don't think I haven't thought that." He f e l t his way, started touching everything in the house, moving from room to room, feeling, groping, picking things up: ashtrays, candles, radios, pillows, pictures on walls, vases, flowers j_n them, lamps, fireplace tools. He tried to understand things about weight and texture. He tried to sense when he couldn't see. "Is this red?" he asked Leah, holding a piece of glass. "Orange," Hunt remembered reading somewhere about people who could tell color just by touch. Close, he thought to himself; orange; close. And he wondered if he could develop that, shape sensitivity so that he could just hold his fingers above oils and determine. Cobalt blue! Even mix colors the same way. He saw the article about him in Look magazine: "Blind Man Paints Perfect Color -- Perfect Light." He found the closet. He got his coat. He put his coat on and went outside. There he began touching too; snow, bark on trees, shrubbery, branches, sticks, ice. He felt a bird feeder, squatted, touched the snow, picked up hollowed sunflower seeds, sure he sensed the black and grey of them, their design. He began to feel that he knew just where jays and juncos were in the trees, when they flew, where they were moving jtp_, and approximately how fast. Inside Hunt's head, he felt he could see the wind. |