My hands

hands have a very special place in my heart. They are as important to me as my eyes are. and that is saying a lot.

i often stare at my hands - despite them not being very pretty things. But i stare because they are fascinating to me. i love to draws hands... in their various actions and poses. i think they are sexy some times.. haha. you know? the very subtle kind of sexy?

the numerous and uncountable criss-cross of lines on the back and palm of my hands, the valleys and shallow hills of the my knuckles, the flat, dull plains of my nails and the cracks in my cuticles. (i know i should take better care of them... but then, these flaws gives my hand character dont they?)

the open palm signals 'please', ' you first/ go ahead'. two open palms are what toddlers would run safely into, becoming a hug, a cuddle, a lift into the air. hands are the most common medium of human touch, they could be a pat on the back, a rub of the tummy, a caress and even use when giving a massage. Or, they could simply, just hold you... and provide in the peaceful lull of silence, the most comfortable companionship you will ever receive.

Most importantly, i think hands are very personal...at least for me, they are. they are a direct extension of me, my will, my heart. they are mine to do as i please. mine to offer to others in times of need, mine to reach out and touch others. when i love, they love too.

my hands are small, but they are my own.