Tactile. Fragily. Fragily Tactile. Tactile and fragile. The tactility of fragility. I'm obsessed with palms and hands when I write. Holding, cradling, touching. The hands being the most obvious and seemingly first point of so many physical contacts. Which isn't true, of course, which is why seeming. Our feet, our mouths, all portions of our skin are constantly coming into contact with so many things. I am fascinated by the tactile, and I am fascinated by the fragile. So many people seem overcome with breaking the fragile, but I want to let it be and feel it bloom wise and bold. What is bold and fragile?
(Zoe Keating's "Sun Will Set" is, at this moment, the aural equivalent of these two words. Tactile and fragile.).
When put together, there is such a gentle strength to these words. My hands are alight with fragility. I am burdened and blessed with a lack of touch. It makes me sad.
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