Touch. When I remember my childhood, I remember very distinctly learning to sew in my mother’s studio. it was a large magical cottage up the hill from our house filled with dragonflies and open windows. Often times my mind would wander while pinning and I would find myself sticking the pin through the first layer of my fingers. It didn’t hurt, but I would pretend with my friends that we had accidentally skewered our tiny fingers and the reaction we would get from surrounding adults was just about the most amusing thing we could think of-until they began to catch on.