A sense of transformation and of skin which sheds. Unraveling old threads and stitching a new armor with which to meet the world, all of its petals and all of its thorns. Our own ability to heal can be almost inconceivable; how with time wounds gradually fade and with gentle strength our skin regenerates and grows anew. Touch may land upon us in the arrow of Eros, the tender wings of a butterfly, the bite of a serpent, joining flowers on a green vine of remembrance and tying each stem together as one. In Chinese philosophy the hands are seen as messengers of the heart, greeting the external world and translating it to the language of our own. A touch can be given or received in so many subtle dialects. Sometimes imbued with love or lacking in it, a touch extends the web of our understanding beyond ourselves and into the vast entanglement of living.

“In touch is all love and intelligence”-Helen Keller