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Many people treat their five senses with a certain respect and consideration. They take their eyes to a museum, their nose to a flower show, their hands to a fabric store for the velvet and silk; they surprise their ears with a concert, and excite their mouth with a restaurant meal. But most people make their senses work hard for them day after day: Read me this newspaper! Pay attention, nose, in cast the food is burning! Ears! - get together now and listen for a knock at the door! The senses get tired. Sometimes, long before the end, they say: I’m quitting - I’m getting out of this now. And then the person is less prepared to meet the world, and stays at home more, without some of what he needs if he is to go on. If it all quits on him, he is really alone: in the dark, in silence, numb hands, nothing in his mouth, nothing in his nostrils. He asks himself, Did I treat them wrong? Didn’t I show them a good time?
— Lydia Davis, from “Senses,” in the short fiction collection, Varieties of Disturbance.