Tough feet--tender mind. Calloused hands--soft heart. All scarred on the outside all new on the inside. Harsh elements leave the gentle charmed. Who maybe even see some points to the harm. And the hard-inside people even did concede: “God damn it, you’ve got to be kind” (Vonnegut). Suppose you resign to acting fine, so you don't gotta talk that way. Like if there ever was matter made by what postulating Powers say.
Tender feet—tough mind. Soft hands—rough heart. Carefully presented skin—inside still no gut direction. And a people's rule has always been: the poor have the fun while the rich wish on; wish maybe that the excess was served up a slight-bit different. Go on, increasing schemes for what's not even there anymore—we’re just trying to use what we got, and what it's for.
Which raises my point about those hands and the feet again. Because I saw a picture today. It showed the most advanced bionic hand created to date, a hand made by who knows how many a man. Fabricated all that imagining into a working part, which spawned an image sent before me through a machine. And frankly, it led me to a simple state of wonder—to wonder if all that touches can necessarily feel.
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