Saturday, June 25, 2011


Watching the hands in the video below, hands that speak on their own, remembered these lines of Rabindranath Tagore, from 'Farewell, my Friend'. The old tattered yellowing notebook where I found this says that I came across these lines on 6th Dec 1987:

"Poets talk only of the face of the beloved, but what a wealth of suggestion is in the hand! All the endearments of love, its devotion, its tenderness, its unutterable longing, are in the hand.

Ladysmith Black Mambazo & Des'ree - Ain't no sunshine:

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