Elmarit 90

VDAY 2011

There is more than what the eye can see.

You don't need to be blind to see ... With your hands.

A gun - the hand pulls the trigger. The fist strikes. Hard. The fingers strangle. The fingers with the nails sinking into  the skin. They strangle. A stick hurts the body, makes bruises, may crack a rib. That can heal. But the hand ruptures the soul. 

It's also what the mime uses to paint the wall to hide, to protect. Come inside. Wave your hand. No, not like that - not like the Pope. Like an Italian.  Don't you feel it? Don't you feel Italian! 

Enjoy your hand: let it melt the chocolate, let it collect the raindrops, and let them dry with the sun, let it make love.

And now the other hand [if you are lucky].

It's more brain than the rest of the body.

It's how the child picks flowers.  

It's a hello. And a goodbye.

It's how we hide laughter and how we wipe tears.

It's antenna for prayer.

It's the cup we make around the face in surprise.

It's how it's sweetest to eat. And most erotic to feed. Almost.

It's the tool for exploration: start at the hair, trace the eyebrows, close the eyelids, gently tap the tip of the nose, bewitch the lips. And then go down. And downer. And downer... To the hands... Fuck - there is a wedding ring. So what?!

I put down the wall. I put the white gloves on the night stand. 

I embrace you with my hands, the part that stays at least half-conscious. I hold the air in your lungs and yet it still escapes, so I kiss you to keep it in. I tease. I take the strawberries. And the ice. I go over the skin. A millimeter away. I feel the warmth, though not touching. My hand slips down - to your navel, the outer side of the G-spot. Your skin is a magnet attracting my hand, guiding it further south where its warm, and warmer, and warmer... My hands are everywhere. In and around. Where was the brain again?

We wake up. Luckily we still know the grammar. 

We protect.

We are building walls. Now-together. We share the white gloves.

We put the hands together. 

And you stand up and look in between, through your fingers if anyone is watching. You want to open your hands, open your arms and embrace this life, embrace this wonderful planet called Earth.

"I am a little spot in the universe, but at the same time I have a whole universe inside of me. I want to feel it, take it, touch it, and let it go. I want to feel - my hand in your hand. I want to feel the comfort that you give to me. FEEL IT. Take the hand. Take it - come on, don't be shy. Feel its years, feel its wisdom, feel its beauty, feel its sexual orientation; now feel its stress level, its leadership skills, its GLOBAL leadership skills, its GPA. Feel its vulnerability, its curiosity, its shyness, its comfort, are you feeling it? It helps if you close your eyes.

"Remain expectant." 

700 km

The last time I went to my grandparents’ place (my parents’ hometown where they grew up and studied together since grade 1 – sweet and almost surreal story in our society) was in 2008. By some standards, it is a long time ago; especially, by theirs. So, 350 km one way on Saturday (high-way speeds of questionably-legal limits), gave me a great sunny afternoon with them – to take pictures of their intent concentration, their swirling emotional states, their wisdom, their incessant contemplations of times gone by, their film-strips down memory lane, and their predictions of the future (with beans). And despite age, broken wrist that still needs healing, and … other things, they were full with energy. And it took my grandma a wink to prep herself with make-up, fancy suit and a silk scarf for the camera (and the photographer). And that was another walk down memory lane – for me – remembering those rooms in which I spent every summer, remembering those small utensils which hadn’t changed in 15 years, remembering the care and love that I received from them. With the pictures, I permanently fixed those memories. Again. In a share-able version.