And then a friend sends this, in reply to the previous post, Hands:
"I was once on a national US news special in my role as a military officer. In the broadcast clip, I was typing on my Mac laptop. All it showed was my hands, but friends all over the country recognized them. I found that interesting but baffling.
One of my friends, whose wife is a physician, went on to elaborate that when his wife's medical class dissected cadavers, the hardest task -- the most psychologically upsetting for the students -- wasn't dissecting faces. It was hands. He offered, "It's our hands that give us our humanity."
Learning to draw in art school as an adult, we had to draw a huge study of our own hands. I saw my father's hands in my finished product. It was very moving.
Then my stepfather was a friend of Carlotta O'Neil, Eugene's wife and widow. She remarked on Eugene's death moment that she looked down and would ever remember how beautiful his hands were..."
"I was once on a national US news special in my role as a military officer. In the broadcast clip, I was typing on my Mac laptop. All it showed was my hands, but friends all over the country recognized them. I found that interesting but baffling.
One of my friends, whose wife is a physician, went on to elaborate that when his wife's medical class dissected cadavers, the hardest task -- the most psychologically upsetting for the students -- wasn't dissecting faces. It was hands. He offered, "It's our hands that give us our humanity."
Learning to draw in art school as an adult, we had to draw a huge study of our own hands. I saw my father's hands in my finished product. It was very moving.
Then my stepfather was a friend of Carlotta O'Neil, Eugene's wife and widow. She remarked on Eugene's death moment that she looked down and would ever remember how beautiful his hands were..."
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