What wonderful hands. Hands that have worked, learned their skill, played, been around the block. What a mystery that they can wield a sledge hammer and string a tiny bead. They work without us thinking about how – they just do what we want them to do. Unless we are asking them to do something new, then they become awkward for a while.
I have always loved hands – I fell in love with my honey when I saw his hands work the keys of a piano. He hasn’t played since we married but I still love his hands. Hands need to have veins that show, spots and wrinkles, knuckles that have been deformed by years of use. If eyes are the window to the soul, hands are the door to a life story.
The photos and thoughts are in response to Ailsa’s travel theme, Hands. All hands were taken while vising someplace else.