A green and smoky day as a neighbour clears his land. I feel for the space that was. The trees and shrubs that now lie in smouldering heaps. But with the cleared space comes refreshed earth and a potential for new growth. Two sides to every story.
back to my line “and the hands woo, not by touch but by intention”
The other side of this story is maybe not the words but the sense and emotion of it. I think of hands that create, that shape a material into something new, something “else”
else made by hand
by the curve & line of intention
warm fingers onto cold clay
touch into what’s not said
function into form