Fingers

Look at your fingers. Really. Turn your hand over, spread it, move each one individually. What you have before you are the finest tools your body possesses. Ten small extensions of yourself, equipped with more nerve endings per square centimeter than almost any other part of the body. No machine the human being has ever built comes close to the precision with which these fingers thread a needle, soothe a child, or bring an instrument to life.

And precisely for that reason, they speak so loudly when something is wrong. A cut, a swelling, a stiffness, a sudden tremor, a finger that no longer obeys properly — these are not coincidences. These are messages from the outermost edge of your action, from the zone in which your intentions become concrete. For the finger is the place where thought meets the world.