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I cannot play without looking down at my hands. I watch my fingers grown ever more sure of their path up and down Nina�s neck. Sometimes a little softer, sometimes a little harder but always tripping across her a little better than the last. And sometimes just.so and Nina and I sing together for the briefest of moments. I am breaking my fingers against her. Blistering them in my fervor to produce the sounds that come from her deepest place. Sometimes I barely recognize my fingers in the shower. My skin always responds to the contrast between so soft and suddenly less than soft with surprise. And at other times it is like taking on a new lover. Course, it would always be better if it were a new lover; maybe that way I wouldn�t have to keep looking at my hands when I play. . How Rude! - Wednesday, Sept. 22, 2004 - 12:16 PM One small step but no giant leap. - Tuesday, Sept. 30, 2003 - 11:17 AM Where's George? - Thursday, Sept. 25, 2003 - 12:48 PM |
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a Nifty design 
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