Pinche Quincho

Life experience has shown me that of the five senses only four really actually matter (sorry touch). Of course this is coming from someone whose sense of touch is more developed than the others. When it comes to sight, smell, hearing, and taste my senses are good enough to get me by. I can distinguish minute subtleties in color, which is handy as an art historian; but my near-sightedness, even with corrective lenses, makes distances foggy. My hearing is equally hit or miss. For me, most of  the world is white noise. Or at least I can make it into white noise. Ticking clocks, humming, squeaking, doesn’t bother me. The only noise that keeps me up at night is cumbia so loud it invades your tired body, takes hold, and doesn’t surrender. This is what happened to me Friday night. Continue reading