All the senses all the time

At Shared Worlds, on a humid dewy morning in July, I led the student writers on a sense walk, a moment past all words: under green trees and into splashing water, through a thicket of booming percussion, and into a sweet little sacrament of Jolly Ranchers to mark our walk’s end. The students let themselves be opened, and came back to their classrooms sweetened, spangled with blossoms and damp from the breeze.

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We’re made to have the world this way, through our eyes, our mouths and ears and fingertips, our palates, our lungs: we suck it in, we refract it, we add our particles to its panorama, we become part of it–but then, we always have been.

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CHRISTOPHER WILD is infused and slippery with the senses–

 — and the body breathes in and out, one with the breathing world, rapt and glorying in even the smallest things–the feel of the breeze on bare skin, the vagrant scent of smoke, pink glitter of rain on a neon sign, the humble heat of bodies massed together on the train —

— and for GLITTER KING, the bespoke scent creators Sfumato will be concocting a fierce, sexy, punky palette of smells for our patrons, and us, to savor . . . Our senses know that we’re alive, that we’re raw and delicious and warm.

[Sfumato photo courtesy Sfumato. Shared Worlds photo courtesy Jeff VanderMeer.]

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