In the beginning it was not the word. In the beginning there were the senses. First the raw, unrefined, unfiltered ones. Then they became more acute. More powerful. More alive. A cocktail of pure emotion clothed in a blend of feelings that split the nothingness in two. Then in four. Then in eight. Whatever it took to get to the surface and illuminate the path to a world that needed, more than ever, to feel deeply every playful ray of sunshine, every drop of rain, every storm, every touch. The grass under the feet, the sand under the feet, the concrete under the feet. Snowballs. Streams of light. Fingertips. The warmth of the human next to you. Words came into being a little later, and they also had to be polished, developing and building up to the first “thank you”, the original word for which languages were created. Simple, concise, natural, sincere, a sign of appreciation for all the raw, alive feelings.
There’s nothing purer than the chance to feel something for the very first time. There’s no greater pursuit for us than to find ways to feel that sensation again. After all, what is more humane than the desire to relive special moments? Sometimes we’re lucky enough to succeed and we turn our feelings of contentment and gratification into an everyday ritual. Other times we’re less fortunate and no matter how hard we try, we cannot relive those wonderful moments. We search for that unique sensation to no avail, forgetting that it is in fact embedded into our skin, like a tattoo that’s made without needles, patiently waiting to be deciphered by us or by the right person, at the right time.
Deep in the skin each one of us is hiding a novel that is forever being written, an epic that marks every sensation, every feeling and every story we ever took part in and every story that is still unfolding, touch by touch. Deep in the skin we are all precious stories written in tattoos, without needles, by other precious people.