Never had there been a time when sound, color, and feeling hadn__ been intertwined, when a dirty, rolling bass line hadn__ induced violets that suffused him with thick contentment, when the shades of certain chords sliding up to one another hadn__ produced dusty pastels that made him feel like he was cupping a tiny, golden bird. It wasn__ just music but also rumbling trains and rainstorms, occasional voices, a collective din. Colors and textures appeared in front of him, bouncing in time to the rhythm, or he__ get a flash of color in his mind, an automatic sensation of a tone, innate as breathing.
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synesthesia-chromesthesia
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