What is your relationship to touch?

     I found this question ironic and synchronous as well as I had just received my weekly homework assignment to construct a photo montage from images compiled from my hands, old mining machinery and some stock photo of some fire.
     I felt this best described my poor, long abused hands and my long standing relationship with touch.
     For years I had played a guitar and loved the callouses that had formed on my fingertips over time.  Then, I would take long breaks from my beloved guitar and the callouses would fade, soften and disappear, much to my pain and chagrin when I would wrap my fingers lovingly around the frets and neck of my Martin.
       Many years ago while at The Meadows I was tasked with being blindfolded and only getting by with touch alone.  Quite enlightening, to say the least.
     I found that my relationship with touch was such a grounding effect in my life that I was reacquainted with my fingertips once again.  Feeling my way down hallways, stairs and doorways was like open my eyes that had been blindfolded.  Rather odd, nes pas? 
     And then, along came this funny little assignment to make a montage of fingertips and fire alongside rusting machinery.
     My relationship with touch was rekindled and found to be one loving and deeply rooted in every day life and every day extraordinary life as well.