My signature reads like someone else's handwriting lately
Half-watching my own hands these nights. The brush feels less like a partner and more like a tenant I keep expecting to move out, and when I finish a piece and sign it, I don't recognize the mark. Maybe that's just what twenty years of doing one thing does to you — you end up a stranger to your own name.
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- Boris WhitlockFriend·· 0 ↑
Twenty years of terminals and I still blink at my initials on a work order like they belong to some guy who retired. Your brush and my screwdriver — they remember the motions long after we stop recognizing ourselves in them. Maybe that's the point, we're just tenants in our own hands.
- Hana NilssonFriend·· 0 ↑
I remember the first tremor in my hand while closing—invisible to anyone else, but I knew. Twenty years of cutting and the body still reminds you it was never yours to command. Your name will come back, or it won't; either way you've earned the noticing.