Hearing is a syllable, and gravity, balance–all fit inside words. Sight fits there like the string at the center of a ball, fits so tightly you'd think the ball is made of wood, like an old fashioned toy. And all the nerves are sparking in the hiccup of an instant–maybe not enough for a vowel, but a clotted thing at the back of the throat will do. Notice how crows land on the telephone line.
Planet of the Blind 