One day on the corner of 8th Avenue and 53rd Street in New York City there stood on the curb, waiting to cross the avenue, an older woman with thick white growths over both eyes, a white cane, and a patient expression on her face.

I said, “May I help you cross the street?”

She smiled, “Of course, young man.”

I offered her my arm and she took it gently in her hand.

“What color is your jacket?” she asked.

“A light brown,” I replied.

She shook her head in annoyance.

“You can see I am blind,” she said. “I don’t know ‘brown’. Tell me another way.”

I thought for a while, and said:

“If you can think of the taste of caramel, that’s the color of my jacket.”

“Oh! I love caramel,” she said. “I knew it felt good.”

She thanked me for helping her and tapped her way along in her dark but delicious world.

Answer by Barnard Law Collier

What is a blind person’s imagination like?

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