If you memorize the textures of things, with your eyes instead of with your hands, the textures of walls and lights that make shadows on these walls, then you will understand. You will understand how the emotions and the twitches in peoples' eyes have textures too. The quick and quiet flinch of pain that briefly precedes the smile that is supposed to be there. The light that leaves the peoples' eyes, the darkness that swirls around the thin skin underneath those eyes. You will understand the texture of the sighs, and recognize the lilting music and the notes that raise just a little bit off in the voices, like a piano that needs tuning.

And then there is the joy, or the excitement, or the passion, or all of these things. When people cannot get the words out fast enough, or they stumble and let out too many, and stop and catch themselves. Like they have accidentally revealed too much, too soon, and want to take back all of the things that they have given away.

All of the people, everyone, have surprises in their movements and answers, and not necessariliy the answers themselves but the way in which they respond to the questions. The way in which they crinkle their eyes, or look away, or mask themselves with monotony.

This is the way in which I love people, knowing these things.