Joris Iven |
WOMEN’S HANDS
Every time I looked at a woman, I first looked at her hands. I know that these details also strike you when you look. Always the two, three small hairs, the short-cut nails, the curve of a finger, a little finger. Those tiniest of features have often attracted me. They have led me where I was also going. I saw hands lifting a cup from a saucer, clasping a book, running through hair. And I was never tempted by what was flawless. Time and again those face freckles, those hairs on arms or legs, that spot that shouldn’t be there. I know that what is mutilated also affects you, when you are in the dark. I loved many hands, and accompanying loose hairs, hoarse voice, squinting look. I loved those hands until they wanted to persuade me.
· Essays · Toneel |