Melting. Falling Slowly. Supported. Collapsing. (The words are connected by a blood line running from my heart to my hands…beyond).
homecoming like minded soul son lover twin been apart where did we go? we hold tingle pulsate and part looking, really looking across the room open windows and wait in silence watch the billowing curtains we brush as we make coffee and again hold as we sit across the table me and me meeting like no other
Today the mannequin ‘dummy’ hands arrive…for the time being I will use these virtual hands to stitch people’s hand arrangements into the gloves. The lines of touch are broken. I am wondering how this transmission might occur in the gap of mutual touch that is now absent. A space of body parts, ghosts of self touch and virtual stitchings. What is stitched in?