An Exploration Into Identity

Two Hands

Almost always cold and sweaty, with nails clipped short, and a rough patch where my pen rests, I would say that I have average hands. The things I have experienced with them, however, have played a large role in shaping me as an adult. It is with these hands that I discovered the joy that is feeling the thin, rough paper and smooth spines of books, have created music from the colorless keys of a piano, have crammed my thoughts onto a page with cramped fingers and fervent sloping of letters. They have been a source of sight, even more so than my actual eyes.