I remember holding my left hand by its left side (little finger side) into the palm of my right hand. The heat comes from the inside of my palm and more fragile and cooler left little finger and side rest into the right palm like a warm bed.
Melting. Falling Slowly. Supported. Collapsing. (The words are connected by a blood line running from my heart to my hands…beyond).
My left thumb is slightly small than the right. I used to suck the left one as a child with the index finger hooked over my nose. I did this until I was 11. A comforting.
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?
Hello! Please find somewhere to rest and take some time to be with the sensations and arrangements of your hands touching each other… begin to notice the different kinds of feedback the placement and touch of fingers and hands create within each other. Now, take some time to be with the touch of one hand with the other, play with the familiar patterns in which your hands hold each other and find new ones (you may Read More