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le I stand still。
When I step off the train; the platform whirls round; and I find it
difficult to walk steadily。
Every atom of my body is a vibroscope。 But my sensations are not
infallible。 I reach out; and my fingers meet something furry; which
jumps about; gathers itself together as if to spring; and acts like an
animal。 I pause a moment for caution。 I touch it again more firmly; and
find it is a fur coat fluttering and flapping in the wind。 To me; as to
you; the earth seems motionless; and the sun appears to move; for the
rays of the afternoon withdraw more and more; as they touch my face;
until the air bees cool。 From this I understand how it is that the
shore seems to recede as you sail away from it。 Hence I feel no
incredulity when you say that parallel lines appear to converge; and the
earth and sky to meet。 My few senses long ago revealed to me their
imperfections and deceptivity。
Not only are the senses deceptive; but numerous usages in our language
indicate that people who have five senses find it difficult to keep
their functions distinct。 I understand that we hear views; see tones;
taste music。 I am told that voices have colour。 Tact; which I have
supposed to be a matter of nice perception; turns out to be a matter of
taste。 Judging from the large use of the word; taste appears to be the
most important of all the senses。 Taste governs the great and small
conventions of life。 Certainly the language of the senses is full of
contradictions; and my fellows who have five doors to their house are
not more surely at home in themselves than I。 May I not; then; be
excused if this account of my