I look at people’s hands to be able to read the story of them. To see the truth behind their display. I have seen women’s hands who look like they have torn down buildings & others who’s hands wouldn’t dare touch anything that isn’t handed to them. I have seen men’s hands that look like they’ve held the weight of the world so long that it’s left behind blisters & I’ve seen others who’s years have left behind a stain that will never wash away. I’ve seen children’s hands that show all the colors they see the world in & others whose hand show that their mother never bothered to hold it at all. Then I find myself looking at my hands, to try and see what story I project. A correlation of pen ink, chipped nails & wrinkles that resemble a 50 year old woman. Our hands have a lot more to say than our mouth does sometimes.