Hands

Since viewing Atonement I keep finding myself thinking about the almost touch of hands. The lacing of fingers as they weave through the space of in between. A braid whose core begins at the wrist and flows to tips of nails.

I have been thinking of the almost touch of hands and the touch. The hesitant hand that reaches out and lays itself upon another - until it finds itself quickly rejected. A Delueze touch - a connection that cannot be denied for in the rejection an elasticity of time - perhaps you might even say the trace remains - floating in the air between bodies.

I have been thinking of the possibilities that come from and with the two.

To be able to have so much communicated between two single hands while on the other half of the body the mundane actions of stirring tea with a spoon or pouring milk into a cup continue.

thinking of a skyline

The radio caster on the BBC woke me with the news that Paris might soon rise.

Ten years ago - a few days later - a pedestrian bridge crossing the Seine was where I planted my feet to usher in the New Year - see the fireworks reflect in the river and on the gray stoned buildings. I was met by an architect and his family. We shared Champagne and I was told how the original builders of the city had mapped out the streets and the structures according to sun rise and the sun set. Even on the best days - when Paris' sky is the colored by fog - the reflection and refraction of light creates a crispness a clarity to the city.

Benjamin would you mourn with me the rupture of architecture or think it part of progress?

Are there any possibilities for a city remain a living museum? Am I selfish in wanting that?

happy hanukkah!

jess,
i don't know if you'll actually use this, but i thought that if, perhaps, you had a blog already set up, it might be of interest...

and you have so many words to share.

much love,
n