Perhaps for Grandma, eating or tasting is a way of communicating with this world. When all her other senses are failing and there is little strength left to even reach out her hands, tasting is probably her only meaningful contact with the outside world. For Grandma, this world of ours, where there is so little left to feel attached to, means nothing but what her mouth feels — the temperature of the water, the shapes of the noodle, the juice of the fruits and the pork that she grinds between her tongue and her palate.
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