Hands

'So my hands are
the mirrors of my eyes..
interpreting
populating
transforming..'

Lennart Dahl


Thinking about hands I immediately thought of a lady called Monique. She was about fifty years older than me, had a wicked sense of humour and she was blind. I worked with her for over twelve years and we became very good friends. I was fascinated by her hands, the way she used them and relied on them to see for her. She read braille effortlessly, her fingers skimming across the page. I remember when Rowan was born Monique gently traced the outline of her wee face, it was the first time she had 'seen' a baby.

Without touch her world would have been darker still. Even with sight feeling someone's touch, however slight, can be reassuring. Life affirming even.