Hands of man, rude hands.
A blue orchid clamped between his fingers, and a silver ring.
It’s not a hand any, but that of the man who affords my life. The orchid represents the moment when I thought “is made”. That point of no return when you realize that your heart, by now, does not belong to you anymore. That turn that makes a summer love, something that it endures forever. A gift accompanied by a message and tears of emotion on my face because, for the first time, you realize that someone is trying to make you happy. And the ring, not a sign of engagement, but a gift before a detachment that made us even more united.
A hand that caresses me, touches me, clutches me.