TasteTouch

March 4, 2010 § Leave a comment

She dreamed in black and white, but also in vivid taste. It was as if everything was reduced to its purest form and extracted to tell a story on her lips. Simply biting into a nectarine revealed to her every insect who’d ever landed on it, each drop of pesticide to touch it and the exact shape and texture of the farmer’s fingers.

In a kiss she could see a lifetime like a flipbook film. She’d taste every thought you ever had, every word you ever said, every dark moment you repressed.

Eventually she went crazy.

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