Tic Tic Tic

Tic tic tic

Listen to the sound of our hands moulding together.

Finding their imprecise shape into brokeness. You would wonder how does an empty hand have an ocean of secrets on the shores of our fingers.

Our hands are the copy of our hearts. You can’t really close them, there will always be a tiny crack in between fingers that will allow you to love someone even though your heart is not ready. You see the hand is the first thing we give to someone, the first physical contact happens on the hills of our palms.

We are nothing more than dancing fingers of the hand of Mozart, created to be eternal, made to be listened, brought into existence to be loved. Your fingers know the flaws of darkness they touch it without you realising it, they work alone, just like the heart.

Shhhh. Listen to their heartbeat.