Do you know, I used to do puzzles with my eyes closed? I did. I grew so tired of doing them normally that I shut my eyes and felt the pieces together. Of course, they were no machine-cut wonders, they were simple geometric shapes my father had carved for me with a pocket knife, trunks and limbs born of cardboard. But how they tickled my fingers! When you can’t see them, you see, your mind rides along the rough lines, kisses the angles—it sounds sensuous, doesn’t it? It was. The first many times I made love, it was with my eyes closed and only with my fingers.