Mirrors of Encounters
His hands are free, susceptible, gracefully playful, expressing, somehow telling a soothing, yet odd but amusing story… – seeing his hands, you can almost here sweet but inaudible music, childish reticence, silence, brusque suspension, and so much elegant, timid tenderness…
It is really that strange… – you can talk to his hands, they are open and unreserved, curious and hospitable, vulnerable and receptive…
What a sorrowful mystery – his fingers are queerly searching for something, as if drawing a dream… Yes… his hands have their own life, while the master himself is afraid…
He can not hear his own story…
He is a stranger to his hands…
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