Jul 23, 2009

dear right hand

...We have known each other for over 26 years now. I know I have made you work hard over the years; deadlines, cuts, glue, paint and ink. I've worked in ice cream shops as a teenager where I was dipping you in sinks of bleach. I know I've not been the kindest to you. I don't moisturise you very often, and you need a fresh manicure. You have dermatitis and what feels like a premature arthritic ache, (even if I do sound a little Hypochondriac Georgette from Amelie) but still, I make you work. I know you don't like the cold, and go puffy at the first signs of effort. I just wanted to say you are doing an awesome job. If this means you'll stop aching, our friendship shall remain intact our lifetime. No more old lady fingers, please?

I love you and your work and look forward to our continuing partnership.



Love,
Brain.


PS. Please pass this message on to wrist.

5 comments:

  1. Aw hand, with your handlebar-callouses, hangnails and scar-interrupted fingerprint-whorls. I'm surprised my right hand still talks to me, let alone let me paint and draw with it.

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  2. They are suckers for punishment, I think! :D

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