This is as big as I can make the font. Any more and it feels like I am breathing through earth. How to describe synaesthesia even to those who may have it? The alphabet does not sit only on my tongue, but in my hands and in my throat. It bulges and bustles, and I try always to make it as fine-boned as possible, for the sake of my real comfort.
How to describe the heart of a woman who learned her poetry from trees and shadows?
There is a borderland where I bring my rain-soaked stories and you bring your needs, and somehow we figure out a give-and-take that hopefully provides value to each of us. I am growing old, I am stranded through with a grey that some people say is silver but I think is sky-coloured like out west, where the wind makes an elegy for its lost rivers far beneath the sea. Many things I can tolerate better than I ever did before. Other things have become more important, such as the weight of words, the space I have to breathe.
Big words, voluptuous fonts, feel like I am filling myself with rocks. I can not read them on other websites. I can not use them on my own without becoming literally, just a little, queasy. I know a woman who feels the same way about orange. How I manage a weblog, let alone entire books, within all the thorns and walls of synaesthesia, I really don't know. I guess I just pick up a silence and run with it, gathering words wildly to fill it, for as far as I can. And then the corner of an F will stop me, or the sudden bitter taste of a syllable.
As difficult as it is to describe the synaesthetic experience, I find it even more difficult to believe not everyone experiences elements of it. Do you truly not see numbers in a particular set map form? Do you not feel words in your body? Does sound not have a shape to you? Numbers and letters no colour and mood? There may be times when, as a writer, I am hampered by synaesthesia (such as when I must write on a left-leaning angle ... this is why I am grateful for keyboards!) but I can not imagine life without the enrichment of this experience.
And that is why I apologise for your struggling eyesight, truly I do, but I can't get the text any larger than this.