I looked quickly and saw that some pink protruded from the finely cropped fur, but I needn't have hurried as she never made any effort to cover herself. She just laughed and rolled on the floor. She shortly got back up on the couch and snuggled in. "You really crack me up, you know that?"I then went about tickling my mom's funny bone by making her laugh and laugh and laugh. I loved to do this, and she loved it too. It was mostly stupid, though I had a couple of very good punchlines and turns of phrase that spun off my otherwise-addled tongue. Both of us being very stoned helped considerably. We enjoyed the next hour as the energy slowed, and we both held tight to each other. The room was warmer (or was it just us?) and we'd recently abandoned our robes (her in her shorty nightgown and me in boxers and t-shirt). At one point, Mom pulled a light cashmere throw over us, put her head into my shoulder and snuggled in like a spoon.I nodded off briefly and came to with mom holding tightly. Sometimes to ugliness and we were repulsed. But mostly, we simply experienced the new and the different. We sat in the museums and on the street corners and in the cafes and we watched it walk by. We were fascinated and we wanted more.With our ears we took in sounds. We listened to words and the visceral onomatopoeia of passion. We listened to ideas and emotions. We listened to new languages. Some we understood and some we had to decipher. We listened with our ears and our bodies. We let the sounds flow over us. They came from the mouths of our lovers and from the world around us, and we let our own sounds emerge, meet, and mingle with them.Our noses treated us to the most raw of experiences. We walked through the city and took in its basest cues. Restaurants. Parks. Riverside paths. Alleys behind clubs where crowds of bodies sweat together, blending alcohol, smoke and musk into the unmistakable aroma of indulgent recreation. We smelled the smells of nature and of humans. They lodged.
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