You're in total dark, and summoned by the voice you move forward, in line with few others. You keep one hand against the wall and with the other you waggle or drag the white cane nervously. You aim for the voice and try to follow it. Sometimes you're cornered, or stumble, or you run into someone else's limbs and must apologize. For the rest you fumble around. The space all around you at moment seems limitless although it is probably very narrow. You may have the impression of a very high or a very low ceiling above your head, but no doubt both the feelings are inaccurate because you have no way to tell. All you can see is total darkness, and some whitish blurry spots in your eyes that for a long while don't seem to want to fade. All the steps you take are incredibly short tentative steps and yet you have the impression of having walked a large distance. You passed a garden, where the canned birds chirped and few odorous plants guided you through; had your slice of traffic experience and went across a dangling bridge, a passage on a boat, explored a room with bas-relief pictures hanging on the walls and chests with mysterious objects inside. Finally in a bar you realized it ain't so hard to mix coffee and milk in total darkness, or to rip the sugar sachet, until you lost the plastic spoon, after which you were kind of lost yourself. You also realized that it ain't so obvious to tell between one coin or the other, let alone drop them right in the hand of the girl at the counter and take your change back.
After one hour and fifteen minutes you get out of the dark to the bright hall and suddenly you wonder, what all this light is here for? What's the use? You sort of was accustomed to the dark there. You were alert and your body and your senses were working at full throttle. It was amazing and challenging. Now you can't help but feeling that there's another bunch of experiences your other senses are craving to work equally hard for. Watching a movie. Playing a card game. Playing a instrument. Playing some sport. Writing. Climbing. Swimming. Hugging someone. Telling the facial features by touch. Groping your guiding voice who as soon as we're all out to the light appears to be a strikingly beautiful visually impaired 25 year old foreign girl, who works part time at the Istituto dei ciechi (Institution for blind persons) in Milan, for the permanent exhibition Dialogo nel buio (Dialogue in the dark).
Which, in case you haven't experienced it yet, is a must see.